March 12, 2006
Yesterday morning I came down with a cold. So far, no dreaded fever, but mercy! I have been trying very hard to avoid this, and I can certainly see why it is not a desirable thing. . . and of course, there is no way of knowing which moment or misstep in hand washing took place to bring germs home to roost in my body. The level of tiredness is greater than one might imagine – I see the greatly depleted army of defending cells mustering as best they can to deal with the unwanted invaders. I will call the oncologist’s office tomorrow to see what this might do to my scheduled third round of chemotherapy which is to begin next Thursday.
Charles had his first cooking lesson yesterday. He made a roasted chicken on the spit using our outside cooker. I thought about how to write the recipe so that someone who hadn’t considered exteriors or interiors of raw chickens before might deal with the project. There were moments when the hands that move so effortlessly over multiple keyboards struggled with wrapping trussing strings around the slippery, prone object with its non-cooperative appendages, but it turned out well and we both were delighted with the outcome.