It wasn’t long ago that I likened myself to the Everready Bunny. I had been oddly energetic through my vacation, and even got through the return jet lag without much trouble. I was so perky I was starting to wonder whether I had left my body in the UK and come back with someone else’s, although my outside appearance was largely unchanged. I even questioned whether I really had cancer, and why people with leukemia whine so much about fatigue. I figured I’d been presenting a fraudulent picture of myself to you, my faithful readers, for all these years, and you know how I value honesty.
And then this frenetic activity started to catch up with me and I crashed (no, not my car, although I imagine your mind went there). I became a walking zombie again, to my dismay. All I wanted to do was to sleep but, oppositional one that I am, I refused to give in. Within a few days, all my illusions about the new energetic and leukemia-free me were dashed. The more I fought my fatigue, the sadder I got, and the crankier I became. Let’s just say I wasn’t the funnest kid on the block this past weekend, even when I was awake.
So here’s the confusing part: Was I tired because I was down or was I down because I was tired? Depressed people often speak of fatigue. Like me, they have difficulty dragging themselves out of bed in the morning. Was I depressed because our great vacation was over?
I could be wrong–you know my personal insight is often lacking–but I wasn’t down after our vacation; I was in a great mood. We had had such a fantastic time, we had come home with so many good memories and so much good Cadbury chocolate. We even returned with the hope that there would be more travelling in my future, after months of being hesitant to venture far. I had absolutely no reason to be down.
Armed with this insight, I gave myself a firm talking to yesterday. This is what I said: “Self, stop it already. No one likes hanging out with you when you’re cranky. You’re only down because you’re tired. Go take a nap and you’ll feel better.” And so I did, and it helped, sort of. I’d forgotten how much energy it takes to be cranky.
Because J. had been subjected to my crankiness all weekend, she found a way to bring some levity to the situation: she took a picture of me while I was napping. During my nap, my hand had moved up to my chin and, from a certain angle, I looked like I was sucking my thumb. I’d show you the actual picture but you know how much I value my privacy. This reasonable facsimile (without the badly dyed red hair) will have to do:
I told J. to erase the picture pronto but I don’t know if she did. I hope it doesn’t show up some day on one of those internet sites. You know the kind, with unsuspecting adults in compromising positions. Oh, the shame!