Tuesday always shows up – the day before chemotherapy. Everything seems normal yet nothing is. A prisoner in my own life, it’s as if I have been sentenced to jail time and am about to have my last meal in the real world.

The desire to do as much as possible in order to feel “normal” is strong given the next seven days will have a dark cloud looming. The physical battle can be a challenge but the mental game must be played to win – no excuses, no other option.

Working out ladies at 5:15am, emails and Quickbooks before the next class at 7:15am. More emails, decisions, and then a vendor meeting at 10:30am. Home to my daughter for lunch followed by family therapy. Workout at 4:30pm, Hair Science meeting at 6:00pm, dinner with hubby, more emails and decisions. Finally sleep. That’s my “normal” with an asterick or two**.

Avoiding the thoughts of what is to come – the drip, the side effects, the pain, the steroids, the fatigue. If only I could fast forward time through the next seven or so days. But in some twisted sense, I believe that experiencing the pain is part of the growth and appreciation that follows after those days.

Is it a prison sentence or a competition? To feel trapped or to feel free? It’s me against chemo again. And how many times must I remind chemo just exactly who will win?