For most of my life, Saturdays were my favourite day of the week, but not right now. Weekends are now when my body feels the effects of a work week's worth of radiation and chemotherapy. Yesterday I slept till nearly 11:00 a.m., then again from 2:30 in the afternoon until well into the evening, and once again, in fits and starts, from 10:00 p.m. until 12 hours later.
While I was awake I felt like crap being crapped on by a crapload of crap. Not nauseated, really, but more like my body was packed to the skin with some sort of sludge. There is a genuine physical feeling to having the chemotherapy drugs running through my bloodstream. On the plus side, I'm sure the cancer cells feel even worse.
My wife, during all this time, amazes me. She keeps the whole house running, gets the kids to all their activities, arranges for them to visit the in-laws, does laundry and dishes, and more. I was happy that she could take some time last night to visit our friends' house for dinner—I was so crashed out I would have made no useful company anyway.
I'm hoping I might feel well enough later today to join her and our daughters and the in-laws for dinner. I'll just have to see. So much is minute-to-minute or hour-to-hour for me.