In case anyone was wondering, typing with numb fingertips is tricky. It's entirely possible you're reading the wrong words.
I'm trusting my highly paid proofreader will alert me if I type anything resembling a DonJon tweet or Bobby Kennedy, Jr. press conference. So far neither "brain eating worms" nor "Is she talking about me?" have made it into copy. But there's no guarantee.
For all intents and purposes, I'm as delusional as they are. The only difference is, I'll get better.
The numb fingertips are one of the side effects of the chemotherapy. So are the tingly soles of my feet and numb gums. Oh, and the delusion. I'm a week out from my second dose which comes every 3 weeks. A couple more to go.
The first round wasn't bad. No sickness, just varying degrees of numbness in my digits with a couple of anxious, unfocused days in the first week. This second round has proven more intense, especially the lack of focus part, but still without the sickness and pain many experience with chemo. I'm having it easy, I know.
But it took me ten minutes to make a two sentence Facebook post yesterday. That was because my numb fingers couldn't feel the shift key and I kept sending the cursor off to the wrong spot. And in the fog that comes with the ride, I couldn't figure out why it was happening and thought my enter key was broken.
Nothing brings writer panic quite like a broken enter key.
To be honest, right now I'm still a little confused about that enter key, but I'm not going to sweat it. I've hit it a few times and it's acting right. I know what's going on. There's a bag or two of poison intent on killing a killer pumping through my veins. There's going to be fallout.
Which is what my hair did. Fall out after the 2nd week. In four days, I went from fully coiffed and goateed to looking frighteningly close to a cross between Moby and Mr. Freeze. Hats are required if I don't want to scare the neighborhood kids.
That was expected. No modeling contracts are in danger, you'll be glad to know. Did I mention delusional? I may be pretty on my good days, but at least I don't think I'm better looking than the vice president.
I'll get better. The chemo will end and the hair will come back. I've been blessed with an easy ride relative to the cancer journey others are on. I've got many, many people praying and I've got people who know what they're doing fighting for me.
But it isn't easy. Claiming so proves my delusion. Some days are bad acid trips. One minute your fingers are numb, the next minute your balance is gone and you can't stay upright on a pair of sandals. Your hair hurts before it falls out. Ever had your hair hurt?
So. I thank everyone for the love and healing coming my way. It's been fully unexpected and wholly inspiring. If you know someone on this journey, reach out to them. Just let them know you're there. It'll do you good.