This has been a tough week for a number of reasons, several of them having to do with food.  Last Saturday, five of us went to Topeka's best restaurant, the Rowhouse, for what promised to be a delicious dinner with good company.  I was fine for the first three courses (small dishes from the tasting menu); then suddenly I felt really terrible.  Mohamed and I navigated the very steep staircase to the first floor and went outside for some fresh air, but that didn't help and getting back up the stairs seemed nearly impossible.  I stopped at the restroom, and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I looked something like a zombie.  Usually when I'm in public or with friends, I look "normal," not sick at all.  So it was a shock to see my own image.  The other diners in the room stared--trying to look as if they weren't--as I stumbled back to the table.  And then the feeling passed, and I picked my way through the dessert course with no problems.  By the time we were in the car, I was sick again, and getting home and in bed was the only goal I could think of.

Things didn't improve with my next foray into a restaurant, our favorite go-to eatery, where we have lunch or dinner two or three times a week.  I almost always choose their fish special, which twice now has come with alligator.  (It tastes like rich chicken livers.)  This time the fish of the day was catfish, hardly my favorite, but it was stuffed with crawfish and served with a Creole sauce.  While I was eating, I enjoyed every bite, though the proportion of catfish to crawfish was a little heavy.  But once more, there was a sudden shift, and my whole body, especially of course my stomach, revolted.

After thinking that my stomach problems were basically in the past, this week was a sudden reminder of less pleasant times.  For the rest of the week, my appetite hasn't been great, and I've tried to stick with bland fare.  Tomorrow night we're invited to my friend and colleague Maureen's for dinner in Lawrence.  She's a wonderful cook, so I'm hoping for a calmer digestive system.  I want to enjoy what I know will be a fine meal.

Meanwhile, I feel as if I've been crashing even more than usual.  It's probably just my imagination; I know I've felt this way before.  But I've been sleeping much later than usual, even sleeping through the alarm on occasion--and that's definitely not characteristic.  Exactly three hours after I get up and take the chemo, I think I'm going to take a shower, but the bed is on the route, and it's too inviting to pass by.  An hour or so later, I make it to the shower, have lunch, watch "The Bold and the Beautiful" (we all have our guilty pleasures), and then, even though I've been up for only two or three hours, I crash again, this time for two hours.  As I've said, I'm sure, before, it's very frustrating.  It's difficult to build up any momentum to accomplish things when my mind and body stop working.

On a lighter and completely unrelated note (except that I watch too much TV), here are my choices for the two funniest lines from commercials:

"I need a template for a template."  (Carrie Brownstein for American Express)

And in second place, the Geico commercial that says that Old MacDonald was a really bad speller:
Announcer:  Your word is 'cow.'
Old MacDonald:  "Cow.  cow.  c-o-w-e-i-e-i-o.  [Buzzer]  Dagnabbit!"  (An "old cooterism" says the urban dictionary.)