Hitting tennis balls, making plans

Counts from Monday: Platelets, 15 (OK for me); hematocrit, 23 (yuk, whatever happened to making my own red blood cells?); and white count, 5.9 (good). 

Yesterday, tanked up on the platelets and blood that I got at the clinic, I conducted an experiment.

I went to hit a few tennis balls with my friend Joe Smith. I dusted off my racquet and put a can of new balls in my bag just so I could hear the popping sound of opening a new can. (We could have "played" with any old balls, but I wanted the new ones that were gathering dust along with the racquet. Also I figured that if they had a decent bounce, they'd be easier to hit.)

I slung my bag over my shoulder and as usual grabbed too many things at once. I dropped my plastic water jug on the floor, and the water spilled all over and the jug broke. Put everything down, cleaned up the mess and off I headed.

It was really hot, about 90 degrees. We did our mini-tennis at the net, and I got most over. I had been worried that my skinny legs were still too wobbly, but I quickly discovered that my skinny arm was the problem. My light racquet felt incredibly heavy. We walked back to the baseline to hit some groundstrokes, and we actually had a great rally pretty quickly.

But I could see that was about as far as I should go, so we walked a short distance to the Mount Holyoke library, which has a cute little coffee shop inside. We got muffins and coffee and sat outside. Much more my speed.

I decided to make a small bet on the future by reserving three nights later in August at a bed and breakfast on Cape Cod (Wellfleet) for the three kids and me, and hopefully Ben's girlfriend if she can get the time off. Since these are supposed to be my penny-pinching days, I looked on the internet for inexpensive places. There was a problem with most of them. Then I found a bed and breakfast with a suite that includes three bedrooms, a living room, kitchen and deck with water view. 

The deck with view caught my eye. The kids could go off on excursions that might be too much for me, and I could stay "home" and read in a nice place. Also we could save money by cooking in, which would probably still be better for my dietary restrictions anyway. (No restaurants for quite some time.)

I splurged.

As many survivors know, making plans is complicated. It's exciting to have something to look forward to, but you're also afraid that something bad will keep you from going.

Twice I've made and canceled vacation plans due to illness. I told Katie that I was a little worried about planning anything, because "Every time I plan a trip, something happens."

She corrected me. "Not every time, Mom. Most of the times that you've made plans everything has been fine."

As my father used to say, "Good clear thinking."