Here we are, folks. Today begins the ‘this sucks so bad’ phase of chemo.
Yesterday, the day after infusion, was doable, though exhausting. We took our daughter to the American Girl Place for her 6th birthday and she had a blast while I felt increasingly shittier by the minute. Here is a helpful tip: don’t go to a place filled with dead doll eyes when you start to trip off your chemo poison. Just sayin’.
Here are a few things that seem different about this round of chemo so far. Did I just say round? I did. My face is swollen and so very round from the steroids. It is not my best look, especially while also bald. I am also very shaky, presumably from the ‘roids. My cheeks are flushed, accompanied by a low grade fever.
Oh, and I have restless leg syndrome whenever I try to sleep. If you have never heard of RLS, be glad.
Mmmmm, I just took the most delightful sip of fresh cold lemonade that tasted like warm, frothy milk. All I do is win.
Now about that cheese- I have always been a cheese girl. Rarely a formaggio I will let cross my path and not indulge in. Chemo has changed cheese and not necessarily in a bad way.
Here is the current approved cheese list: Anything sharp, like a cheddar or a provolone. Here is what is on the current ‘no fly list’ for cheese: Anything else.
Breakfast cheese, lunch cheese, dinner CHEESE. A wheat thin might be a welcome accompaniment.
Here are the other items on the ingestible short list: grapes, watermelon, yogurt, applesauce & salted caramel ice cream. All served ICE COLD, please. This post is making me feel like Eloise. All I need is a turtle and room service and I will be fine, fine, fine.
I have also developed a constant sad look on my mug. It’s like my eyes are incapable of even hinting a smile. Short of doing a handstand, the chances of getting a cute, happy face out of me are slim to none. Sorry Tyra.
And one more thing. When my mother in law was going through chemo I used to ask her constantly what she did with her time as, to me, it appeared that she just sort of laid there partially comatose. I could not for the life of me understand how time passed for her.
Now I get it. Consciousness is for the strong of mind and body. Somewhere just about 3/4 of the way down the rabbit hole is where us cancer patients land. Time is not a construct, but a theory. I can lay in bed not sleeping, just resting, for hours. It is creepy and disorienting, though I suppose I will take it over the alternative of counting every second of my life away until I am better.
Well, I had better skedaddle as it is almost cheese o’clock! After that, it will be back into my mother’s bed where I will vape my legal cannabis and pray the time away.