The Lost Weekend

Unfortunately, it wasn't spent in an alcoholic daze. No, I wasn't drunkenly jumping on the bed, like Jack Lemmon*. I was lying on it, wishing I could actually catch a few Z's. Friday night, I hit the so-called "nadir" of chemotherapy, when the effects of the previous treatment cause one's blood-cell count to tank, and in general make you feel like shit. The nadir hits 4-7 days after treatment, so I already knew I was up for a fun and active weekend. I spent most of yesterday in bed, and my attempts to complete even the most basic tasks today have been desultory. My accomplishments, other than this post: taking a bath, and making coffee. I also was very encouraging as my husband removed the two window unit air conditioners and carried them down to the basement. I'm going to try to do a load of laundry this evening--wish me luck.

*Thanks to Wikipedia, I now realize that I was thinking of The Days of Wine and Roses, although The Lost Weekend is looking even more interesting, due to the fact that it was scored with a theremin, and the original story involved an incident of gay-baiting.