light and air

heard crashing on my constantly leaking skylight this morning and looked up to see julius (our sort-of in-house electrician and all-around handyman) trying to hop around the glass with huge pieces of wood.

turns out the drainpipe from the roof is clogged with ice and leaves and as it melts, it's crashing down onto the skylight, threatening to break through the glass. (since i was stuck at home all the holidays, i kept thinking we were having hailstorms.)

in order to protect my skylight as julius and his right-hand man willis (that's his real name) work, they've put sheets of wood over the panes. this means that my entire apartment is shrouded in darkness.

woke up still tired and nauseated this morning - after the amazons went to school - i went back to bed and tried to sleep in-between endless phone calls of people calling to see how i am.

the chemo nurse joked that people come home from chemo and scrub their houses because they're so pumped up on steroids and then, the day after, when it wears off, they crash hard and can't move.

so that's how my morning started. with me and my skylight crashing. in an ambitious moment, i'd made a lunch date with an occasional colleague, a very bright and more ambitious industrial designer, and i was dreading it. i am still slightly scared to be out in public. bald, skinny, weak, nauseated. my eyes permanently red. my skin permanently green. i am not sure i can manage coherent conversation.

at home, i can be a pathetic invalid - but out on the street or in a restaurant - i'd have to pull my own weight like a real person. it's one thing to be in the safe and comforting company of close friends and family members and quite another to be with someone you know on a professional level. i was putting myself in a situation where i should sound lucid and capable. i know i was once.

so i bravely took a shower and got dressed. like a normal person, rather than a sick person on my way to a doctor's appointment, which, for the past few months, has been one of the few reasons i've left the house.

so stephen rang the doorbell and out we went on to the street.

the minute the air and noise and light hit me, i suddenly remembered who i was again.

a somewhat intelligent, quick-to-laugh and dynamic person.

not a sickly, scrawny cancer victim... or just temporarily.

it was almost as refreshing as a swim. i emerged energized and alive.

i have GOT to get out more.