So, I’m pretty sure I alienated a neighbor the other day. One of the nice ones. Not that I have mean neighbors, but there are a few who are particularly nice. This one I think of as the “new neighbor,” even though I’m pretty sure she moved in about two years ago. I still have guilt for not bringing her a loaf of banana bread or something to welcome her to the neighborhood. I should probably let go of that, but it’s still what I think of when I see her, cementing her as the new neighbor. Anyway. Here’s what happened:

This last round of chemo was especially miserable. My nausea was so bad, it actually hurt. At one point, drinking water was painful. Not because of mouth sores or anything. More like, stretching my esophagus even for water was too much. To top it off, Brian had to go to Washington to pick up Miko from camp, so I was alone (save for one evening when a good friend saved the day by keeping me company). Mostly, though, I was unable to interact, or pay attention to even a book on tape, so just able to…. lie in bed. Ruminating. Feeling badly, and, quite frankly, sorry for myself. By Saturday evening I just had to get out of the house. My big plan was to go to the store and buy Pringles. Yes, Pringles. I had briefly seen some headline about Pringles contributing to cancer, and all of a sudden I had a craving. (Yes, I’m completely aware of how messed up that is. But really, I could only get about two Pringles down before getting sick, so chances are I’m no more cancer-y than before). Once I got to the store, though, it was more like a frenzy. All of a sudden, I was putting all sorts of things in my basket I’d normally never buy. (Ok, that’s a lie. I’d totally buy them, just not in front of Miko). It was my own ridiculous little rebellion against only being able to tolerate Saltines and water, and not even those sometimes. And then I added a few things like carrots and hummus to make myself feel better about it all.

Thing is, my little excursion was more than I was really up for. It had involved actually getting out of bed, getting dressed, driving to the store, and walking around for about ten minutes, and that’s more than I could handle. So by the time I got home and got out of my car, I was really ready to collapse. Cue my nice neighbor. She hailed me, asking me to wait a second while she put her dog in her yard. I swore under my breath. She bounded over in all of her non-cancer, healthy energy, her face full of concern. To be fair, she has watched me change from a normal (if a tad harried) neighbor who is in and out all of the time, to a slow-walking bald neighbor who rarely leaves the house except for semi-nightly walks in a few months, with no explanation, so I suppose she felt it was time to address it. Thing is, I was in no mood to address anything.

She immediately started in on how she could tell a lot was going on with me, and she’d like to help, do anything. A normal person would have said, “Thank you, that would be nice.” Not me. I started shooting down all of her ideas. Even when she asked what foods I could eat, I told her I couldn’t really eat anything, desperately hoping she couldn’t see into my shopping bag, willfully not acknowledging it when she did glance in the direction of the bag. I told her something like, “People want to cook for me, but it’s just too hard to find stuff I can eat.” This was a lie, really. Plenty of people have brought me wonderful meals, which I’ve enjoyed thoroughly. She asked if she could cook for my family, or babysit my kid. I deflected both. Could she walk my dog? No. In my defense, it wasn’t that I was opposed to any of her ideas. I was just so exhausted, my brain couldn’t think of the words, “All of that sounds so nice, but I’m really tired right now. Could we talk later?” It could only come up with terse rejections of her help, hoping she could go away, so I could collapse. She eventually did, and I ate my two Pringles. They weren’t worth it, by the way.

So, it looks like an awkward apology awaits me in the very near future. Perhaps it’s not too late for that banana bread, after all?