Thursday, June 6, 2013

Hot town, summer in the city

Summer finally arrived in the South, and boy was she pissed.  It's been in the 90s and dripping wet humid, just like an Amazon jungle with treefrogs and poisonous snakes and stuff.   (I'm actually exaggerating about the treefrogs and snakes but we do have helicopter-size mosquitoes which have been sniggering about our mild winter while they started in on small animals and have already worked their way up to being able to pick up small children.  Seriously.  The local TV stations paint logos on their sides and use them to film aerial shots for the evening news.)

My husband valiantly got out the hammock and tried to take a snooze in the shade last weekend.  He did have a strong, hot breeze blowing over and under him, which frustrated the mosquitoes as they couldn't find a leeward place to land and feast. He still only lasted for about half an hour.  On the whole I think his experience was very similar to that of our evening's entrée roasting in a convection oven, without the excitement of the temperature probe.

So, between mosquitoes and rain and the expected "down" week from chemo, I had to spend the whole week inside the house.  No afternoons in the gazebo, no lunch on the patio, no basking in the sun.   This exacerbated a problem.  One of my temporary side effects from chemo is that my internal thermostat has been reengineered:  I'm most comfortable when the room is a cozy 80 degrees.  Yes, I now think global warming is a good thing.  My husband – not so much.   

I used to be the one always sneaking the thermostat down to 70 degrees, feeling guilty about not abiding by our city's green guidelines but also feeling sure that our city fathers didn't intend for me to actually sweat.   I’m still turning the dial, but this time in a new, novel direction, kind of like the teenager who's just learned that volume knobs can also turn to the left.  

The instant my husband leaves the house in the morning, I crank it up.  The house hovers around 80 degrees during the day, then I turn it back down to 72 degrees at five p.m. and grab a sweater and blanket so I can bundle up to endure the frigid cold. When my husband gets home, I look like a Sherpa about to lead a team up the last face of Mount Everest.  

You know, it's an odd thing - stores in Texas don't seem to sell Snuggies in June.  I've checked.  Must be an oversight.  Anyway, you can just imagine what a schizophrenic closet I have right now:  warm winter woolens for whenever my husband’s home, and summertime cottons for when he’s not.  Makes for some interesting outfits.  Hopefully my internal thermostat will readjust soon;  if not, I’m going to be one of the few yelling “Bring it on!” when we get those 100-degree forecasts by the end of the month.   

Oh, yes, my progress report for the week:  I hit some new lows on my cell metrics but they’re all starting to trend back up now.  My voice comes and goes as this respiratory infection will be around until July when I’m through chemo and recover enough to beat it off.  Next week should be a fairly decent week; I'll be using it to get in good shape for (drum roll….) my LAST all-day chemo, coming up just after Father’s Day!   

In the meantime, very warm wishes!

1 comment:

  1. Whoo Hoo on last round of chemo coming up - thinking of you and so glad the end is within your grasp...:)