Time for a Nap

I'm tired.

A year ago, I'd take that at face value. I'm tired.

Maybe because soccer and baseball have started up and I'm running one division, co-managing one team and helping coach another.

Maybe because of the Mon-Thur, Sat/Sun activities (Friday is our off day) and because I'm eating "dinner" around 8 pm, getting the kids ready for bed in between bites.

Maybe because I just can't manage to get to bed before 10:30-11 and am getting up at about 5:30 (or earlier on crazy activity Tuesday).

Whatever. I'm just tired.

So as I muddle through this week. I try to remember that this is always how I feel in April. That I ran a pretty fast 5k last Sunday. That I'm still bike commuting from the train to work each day. That I was able to run a practice with 14 7-8 year-olds. That I'm fighting off a little cold. Normal stuff, I say. Normal.

 But cancer's an incessant little disease. Once the diagnosis genie is out of the bottle, there's no putting it back in. All the therapy, all the writing, all the talking it through in the world, will never make you forget you have cancer. So it sort of wafts and curls its way into the vents of your brain and tries to poison your normal. It tries to make you question every ache and pain as a symptom, as evidence of disease. Fighting cancer can sometimes be more mental than physical. You have to battle against those toxic thoughts that permeate your perception. And that takes energy -- which is hard to come by when you're tired.

 Today is Friday, though. It's a bright sunny day. I had a great night's sleep and I'm sitting here on a quiet Amtrak train, wearing my Red Sox jersey to work (it's DFCI's Rally Against Cancer day) and drinking my half-caf as I type this. And when I come home tonight, it's the start of a three-day weekend.  So I may be tired.  But I'm fine.