Saturday and Sunday, Feb 19 20 -- Slow leak.

It's distressing to feel yourself shrink. To watch your life slowly dwindle into a routine that's almost insignificant. The simplest tasks become almost insurmountable goals, and making it through the day is an accomplishment.

That's how weak I've become. This constant cough is draining me further still. Chemo brain, although now I'll call it steroid brain, takes me further away from myself.

This is what it must be like to fade away into the oblivion.
Slow.
Sinister.
Demeaning.
Like a week-old balloon, reaching for the floor. Puckering under its own weight.

To maintain my strength as much as I can, I do continue to eat well. I rest as much as possible. I practice breathing exercises (besides coughing). I try to move around the house when I have the energy. Small jobs. Brush my teeth. Take a shower when I can.

It's all become so hard.

I remember walking for miles downtown during lunch.
I remember carrying 50 pounds of vintage barware to flea markets.
I remember swing dancing.
I remember completely rebuilding my kitchen.
I remember gardening, digging the soil and bringing things to life.
I remember cooking a large meal for my friends.
I remember being able to do a load of laundry, clean some dishes, feed the cat.
I remember too much.

I keep telling myself that this will all pass. I haven't fought this long and hard to lose.
But I have to tell ya, I'm getting scared.