Settling In

We've been back around three weeks now and we are just beginning to feel adjusted.  The last three weeks have been such a rollercoaster, for both emotions and expectations, that we are still feeling a bit out on our feet.  Well, two of us do anyhow - Walt has never looked happier to be reunited with his toys, piles of sports equipment, books, and "his" backyard.  I wouldn't say that he was miserable in the City but I know that he sensed the uncertainty and temporary status there.  Being back together with his "stuff" has seemed to reassure him above all else that life is back to normal.  I wish it were so simple for adults.

I feel as though I am inhabiting a world in which, on the surface, nothing seems to have changed - "You look all right" (a bit fat though) but otherwise well (aren't folks with cancer supposed to appear stricken?)  We lucky few with the brain variety we tend to fatten up and even acquire a dreaded "hump" and moonface as a result of high doses of steroids.  What does it mean that we're back?  Aren't you happy to be cured?   I think it is all a bit confusing.  From the moment I was diagnosed, what it has meant to our lives, our relationships, everything - it has been an ongoing evolution.  Clearly, we're at a new stage of that evolution and still working out precisely what it means.
It is great to be back at the office, seeing colleagues, engaging, and re-establishing some kind of routine (I really just had one going when we departed in a hurry in October).  Life has rolled along in exactly the same way and yet there has been a fundemental change in me.  Bridging this divide has been a bit more challenging than I imagined.
Now that we are down to a one car family (just in time for Earth Day!), I've been cycling to work and home.  The weather has mostly cooperated (only one day in Paris-Roubaix conditions) with fine, crisp fall air and mostly civil drivers.  It has been helpful to have this activity and wind down time built into my day.  Still, I feel as though I'm fighting a mounting wall of fatigue.  It's hard to put a finger on it - six months of chemo finally taking a toll - but it is quite real and a challenge to deal with.  Not much more in the tank than back and forth to work, a brief but enthusiastic hour with Walt and then 9-10 hours of sleep.  I've done the same on the weekends while mixing in a three-hour nap.  Not quite normal but then the past six months has been about finding and defining a new normal and I suppose we still have some work to find that again for our lives here.
Thanks for all of the well wishes - now that we landed, I look forward to keeping up a bit better.