Shokufeh is... home

At least in the arena

Last week, I started telling Sam that, starting the 28th, I'd be back on my game. For the past seven weeks, I've felt very off my game - physically, mentally, emotionally. The seemingly constant trips to the doctor, the underlying discomfort, the goopy head, have all been taking their toll. Probably more than I've been willing to admit. Limiting my carrying of the boy... having to back out of a dinner hosting commitment... taking a multitude of naps... packing on some pounds.... Depression hurts. And hurt depresses.

But I felt a weight lifted on the 27th, after I got the call saying that the pathology report was back and it was clean - this third biopsy was the last. Especially since a few nights before, I had a dream that the doctor called me to say that he was very sorry but he'd have to go in a fourth time. And yesterday, I got my bright blue stitches out. Harder for me to admire this time around, while they were in my scalp, as this was the ooziest incision I've had.

So, it was supposed to mark my being back. A return to normal life. A resumption of exercise, or just normal exertions. But, the head must still be gooped (with antibiotic ointment for now, vaseline in a few days) and I was advised to wait a couple of more weeks before taking up activities at the gym. Especially given my propensity for springing leaks. I do, however, feel like the clouds are slowly blowing away.