Fatigue has descended upon me like Sacramento's tule fog. It's heavy in my bones; each movement requires a resting period. My fog lights are dim and my brain is soft and wet. I am a cold, dank, January morning.
Awaking from sleep uses enough of my energy so that a nap is required. My normal 9 hours of daily sleep has become 15, but even with that, I don't feel refreshed.
The effects of chemo are cumulative. At this rate, by April I'll have been sound asleep for a full month, much like Rip Van Winkle. But, hopefully, I'll awaken to a new, healthier life.