I thought I'd finally adjusted to the undercurrent of dull energy that shuffles me through each day. For whatever reason, just knowing this is a temporary state helped me resume a normal, albeit slo-mo clip, throughout this past week. We had some friends over. Took the kids to the beach. Celebrated James' birthday a bit. Caroline and I went to fashion show fundraiser with everyone on Sunday. Some said I looked kind of pale -- but like being eyelashless, it was nothing a ridiculous amount of make-up couldn't fix. I may walk around looking like Norma Desmond in a suburban-blonde wig, but again -- it's temporary. Dealable. All we need is a little sunshine. But then, I couldn't get my treatment yesterday. The docs sent me home from the DF with dangerously low white blood counts, some preemptive antibiotics, Neupogen syringes, and a Michael Jackson mask. They basically said no public places, no visitors, no nuthin' until the WBCs climb out of the red, or the white hot as the case may be. Because if get so much as a wee fever, I'll have to be admitted to the hospital. Funtime. They said the Neupogen shots should turn this thing around by the end of the week. So, until then, I'll be in some form of drug-induced repose.