cancer – day 191

Uff da, this stuff can really wear you down. Hurting a lot just wears you out, I can’t explain it. And like they said, it’s cumulative, it seems like there’s never a break. If it’s not my hands it’s my feet. If it not my feet it’s the shakes. Last night we went to a cross-dressing Halloween party and then a milonga. We went as an old couple, Mark was the frumpy woman and I was dressed like Mr. Rogers; we went shopping at Salvation Army and a second-hand store on Saturday to find the clothes. The problem of course (and what made the shopping amusing) was that Mark’s like a size 18 in women’s (hard to find) and I’m smaller than small for a man. But we found khaki’s and a shirt and tie and frumpy old man sweater for me, and of course I went without a wig, just bald as can be. I was really pale too, which in hindsight I really regret because I look just ghostly in the photos, should have worn real make-up. Oh well. We rounded out the affair with an umbrella cane for me and a frumpy handbag for Mark. For once it was appropriate that I had the shakes in my left hand, it made me act more like an old man with the cane.

I only danced with four people at the milonga before my feet were screaming bloody murder. Just walking aggravates the burning, so trying to actually do balanced controlled movements really put them over the edge. But it was fun to see everyone dressed up and in face makeup for the Day of the Dead milonga. And Mark was a hit in his matronly female attire, since we had just come from the cross-dressing party.

I’m really trying to stay upbeat and positive, but it’s definitely a struggle sometimes. Sometimes I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep until it’s over.