Chemo was postponed. Which means that recovery was postponed.

A Poem

Saturday I was tired.

Sunday I was ok.

Monday I was stubborn.

Tuesday I worked all day.

Saturday was spent on the couch watching hours of The Good Wife. At least I had recovered from the day of actual chemo. I was able to move around and eat things. And I was able to feel like I could breathe normally again. But I was still fairly tired and fairly weak. I was a bit hot, my cheeks were flushed from the drugs, and my body ached a bit from inactivity. Plus, once again, there was gas central. I feel like all I do now is fart and apologize. Because there are no cute girlie farts. No, these are big-ass grandpa farts with an odor that can clear a room. I have learned that the chemo is killing my stomach cells, hence the gas. But try explaining that to a 16-year-old who just came to ask for help on an essay.

Sunday, Mom went off to the big Feria in Centro with Nancy. I got some planning done for school and then decided to head to the hospital to see Brad, who just got out of minor surgery. As our friend Gabriel pointed out, the Americans really cannot get enough of the British Hospital. We are all definitely putting or international insurance to good use. It was kind of nice going to the hospital for someone else this time. However, I did have flashbacks to being quarantined in my own hospital stay and got a little antsy. While I was visiting, the doctor came in and discharged Brad, so I waited around to give him a ride home. I’m sure we looked a sight – him walking like an old broken man and me, the cancer patient, carrying out all of his belongings. Once I got him settled at his apartment, I headed back home and planned some more for the week. Upon her return from the feria with lots of Sapo Ruperto books purchased for me and some stories of her own, Mom made Brad some food. We both got our good karma in that day.  I could tell that I was slow, but I was making it. Sunday was an easy day. I got very very tired that evening and decided to go to bed around 9pm (or as Uruguayans call it, dinner time). I figured a good night sleep would make Monday easier.

Then Monday morning rolled around. Just getting out of bed was difficult, but I figured it was because it was Monday and I wasn’t used to an alarm for four days. I was so tired, I couldn’t even get myself into the shower. I just pushed the snooze to sleep the extra minutes and hurriedly dressed. Driving to school was almost painful. I couldn’t concentrate to get my lessons together for the day. By this point, I should have walked into my principal’s office and said, “I’m out.” But I am stubborn. Instead, I changed my plans to be more independent work than instruction.

First block, I had to plead with my students to be quiet just so I could concentrate on attendance. And I wasn’t even able to stand for the lesson. Second block, I took a nap on my beanbag. Third block, I had Seniors filling out a graphic organizer for characterization and then gave them time to read. I barely ate lunch. And by fourth block, I could not stand from my desk. I had the students working on questions in pairs that were probably way too hard. When they started wasting time, I couldn’t even muster the energy to gather them back on track. I was done. Worst teacher award goes to…me. It would have been more beneficial for the kids had I just stayed home.

And that’s when I realized that the extra day of recovery is needed. There is a reason I have to do my treatments on Thursday. If I am going to get back into the classroom on Monday and be effective, I need the three days to get the drugs out of my system.

I went to bed Monday at 4:30 and slept until 6:30. Ate some dinner. Then went straight back to bed. Tuesday I woke up feeling normal again. And I had a ton of work to do. The wasted Monday was worse for all involved. I had to get reteach lessons together for Wednesday plus the Tuesday lessons had to be good if I was going to get back into feeling like an effective teacher gain.

Mom came to school to give a career talk. Of course the kids were all intrigued to meet my mom, but then she gave really good information, so they actually became interested in her job. They all want to go into sales and marketing now. They all also commented on how alike we are. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. So, while my kids learned how to market themselves, I learned that I am not superhuman.  I learned that I cannot do it all and sometime I just need to take another day off.