"You're being Mr. Grumpy-Pants today", Linda said.
"NO," I replied. "I"m not."
"Yes," Linda replied to my reply. "You are. It's a sign you're getting better."
"I"m not getting better. That's why I'm grumpy. If I was grumpy. Which I'm not."
"Your colour is much better today and your voice is certainly stronger."
"It still hurts when I swallow anything. I get dizzy all the time. I feel trapped in the house. I feel guilty about all the work you have to do. I haven't been able to walk Lindsay since last weekend. I had to have you drive me home early from lunch with our daughter's yesterday because I got exhausted. I'm still on a very restricted diet. And my back is starting to hurt from sitting around all the time. Nothing is getting better."
"Mr Grumpy-pants." said Linda, in a case-closed kind of voice. "And how long did the doctors tell you the side effects of radiation would last?"
"Two weeks."
"And how long has it been since your last radiation?"
"A week."
"So how should you be feeling?"
"Crappy."
"And how are you feeling?"
"Crappy."
"Mr. Grumpy-pants."
"Well, after five months, I'm just getting tired of it all. I want my normal energy level back. I want to eat food because I love eating, not as part of some elaborate medical intervention where I need to take three pills at prescribed times just to keep the pain in check so I can swallow."
Linda's voice softened, "I know. But trust me, you are stronger, your colour is better. Its only because you're feeling better that you're getting impatient."
"I'm not impatient. It's just that everything is moving too slow."
"Mr. Grumpy-pants." said Linda.
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