Tomorrow afternoon is my third and final chemotherapy treatment. Grateful to be at the point where it will be recovery versus continued suffering. I’m a little worried about how well it will go, as I’m not in the best of shape going into this one; just got back from England in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, and jet lag plus an 8-hour time change were not kind to me.
The trip, however, was worth the bodily wear and tear. I got to see friends and family I haven’t seen in years, and to teach the things I love to teach. I even spent two days at a seaside resort listening to live music and wondering why it was so cold in my room (answer: I had turned the heat off, not on). It wasn’t two weeks of wandering everywhere nonstop like my first trip to England five years ago was, since I wasn’t in any shape to handle that level of exhaustion. But it was still very enjoyable and I saw a different part of the country. Hopefully today’s elections won’t make it impossible to visit anytime soon again.
Getting back home was more of an adventure than expected due to the French airline strike and a serious windstorm that jeopardized my first two flights, followed by a fight between a passenger and a flight attendant on my third flight (Chicago-Portland) that required us to return to the gate so security could get the passenger off the plane, but eventually I got back to Portland and back into my house. I was gone so long that Zigzag didn’t even yell at me. I’ll appreciate the fuzzy company while I’m recovering this weekend.