One week after chemo treatment, I get labs done. There is no appointment, just show up sometime that day. The doctors are looking for red and white blood cell counts among other things that tell them how much havoc the chemo has wreaked. Days 7-10 of the chemo cycle are “immune compromised” days when the body is extra-vulnerable to opportunistic infections. They haven’t really told me what would happen if they don’t like the numbers they see, but why fight monsters that aren’t coming after me? I don’t worry about it.

This Monday, Ani took me for my blood draw. Her conclusion: “Mom, you are such an extrovert.” Her offer of proof: I was dragging my worked-over, semi-live corpse into the office. When the phlebotomist (aka Vampirina) called me in, my countenance changed and I started making wise-cracks, totally engaged (in my defense, I do tend to giggle with my daughter, sometimes very inappropriately). Even Vampirina seemed cheered. Good humor was apparent to Ani until the elevator doors closed at which point I started hugging corner walls again. Boy was she entertained! What can I say? In the corner, one does not expend energy on trivial things like balance, especially when the floor moves.