I didn't finish my....

I don't know that I have anything to say, but I thought I would sit down now and punch something out before it gets to be too late and another week passes with no post from me. What was I doing last week that prevented me from writing? Oh yes, I was nursing my blisters. I learned last Sunday that it's not a good idea to break in a new pair of shoes on a two-hour walk. I walked to the harbor and back with a few friends, wearing the shoes I got at the garage sale I helped out with not long ago. I'd worn them a few times for short periods and they seemed okay, so I put them on and headed off on my jaunt. The blisters became exquisitely painful at about the halfway point. I tried to ignore them as we started walking back, but it was no good, so I did what any reasonable person would do: I took off my shoes and went barefoot. It was fine on the grass and the concrete, but I had to spend the last ten or fifteen minutes of the walk hobbling over gravel-studded asphalt, which was not so much fun. I don't go barefoot very often anymore, so my feet are very tender now, but they used to be tough as leather. I never wore shoes. Often, when I had to go in someplace which required shoes, like a restaurant, I would draw lines on my feet with a Sharpie, so it looked like I was wearing flip flops. People are not very observant. But that was a long time ago, and the gravel was a painful ordeal. Not to mention the blisters.

They've healed now, for the most part, although I don't think they're quite ready for another two-hour walk. I'll give them another week before I go any distance with them.

I just counted on my fingers, and I have fourteen shots left. Gosh, I'm entering the home stretch, which is a damned good thing because I don't think I could take this any longer than that. It's the breathlessness and the depression, mainly, that make things so difficult. Early on in my treatment I read in someone's blog that he had a harder time after he hit the halfway point, not with side effects but simply with the motivation to continue the treatment, and I'm glad I read that because the same thing happened to me. Interferon isn't like an antibiotic, which causes noticeable improvement in the symptoms of whatever problem it's treating. In my case, I wasn't having any symptoms and wouldn't even have known I had the disease if my doctor hadn't insisted that I have another test, so it's more difficult to hold onto the idea that this is helping me. Is it? It doesn't feel like it. All I notice is that it's making me breathless and depressed and lowering my red and white cell counts. And even stranger is the knowledge that if I remain virus-free for the rest of my life and end up dying of something unrelated to the Hep C, I will never know if the treatment was necessary or not. No wonder we patients get burnt out. I can't even imagine what sort of state I would be in if my side effects were worse.

I'm nowhere near ready for Xmas. I don't go all out with it but I do like to get a little something for the people I'm closest to, and this year I don't know if I'll make it before the big day. As usual, I've got stuff for Melissa coming out my ears because I love to buy things for her. She's so odd and quirky and has such varied interests that I can find something for her almost everywhere I go. And then I end up with a huge box full of gifts for her but nothing for anyone else. At the moment I have Melissa and Kim covered but that's it. I asked my boss on Friday if we were working on Xmas Eve and she said yes, but I think that if Yvonne and I can form a little conspiracy and not schedule any work that day, we may be able to get what we want. There's no point in sitting around in that office all day with nothing to do. Much better to be out stimulating the economy by doing my last-minute Xmas shopping.

I seem to have run out of things to say. My heart just isn't in it this week, and my mind keeps wandering off and forgetting to come back, so I think I'll just post this as is. Maybe next week will be more interesting.