Hitting the Wall, Again

I’m not sure just what there is about the third week of chemo, but yesterday was a record for feeling crappy. The week started out alright, but by Friday night I was queasy beyond normal and Saturday, the 4th of July, resulted in some intestinal fireworks — diarrhea, which I haven’t had since the first time I had it during the first chemo session. Mark had it too, which leads me to believe we had a bug.

I wound up taking an Immodium finally, and within an hour all the symptoms had stopped. Let’s hope whatever needed to get out of my system is now out.  Mark’s losing the last of his head hair and beard — I think it makes him look younger… we trimmed it all up, and lo and behold it turned pretty white within a day or two.

Next week should be a hard one, he goes back for session two and I’ll be on session four for this round.

Mild symptoms I have, in part due to the intense heat and humidity here now — ringing in the ears, lightheadedness, fatigue, generally feeling fairly weak but not incapacitated. I can’t ignore the symptoms, but I can deal with them by staying cool and in a dark room. I feel vaguely like a mushroom. Lucky, we don’t have to get out much, nor do I have any “work” that needs doing right this second.

On another topic, I’ve had mixed reaction to this latest spate of celebrity deaths. Mollie Sugden (of Are You Being Served fame) passed this week at age 86 — she was a favorite of mine, along with the rest of the cast of that Britcom. And Farrah Fawcett, of course, died a week or so ago. Michael Jackson, Billy Mays, it’s all pretty strange — they seem to be dropping like flies, and not a few from cancer.

Several of our friends have had mates die of the stuff as well. Fact is, some cancers don’t respond well to chemo. I’m fortunate, as is my husband, to have the kind that does. Weird as my cancer is, the chemo is doing its job — and my body, though changing, is better for it.

Someday I’m hopeful that cancer will be controlled on a genetic level, exactly, with meds that go directly after the specific cells involved leaving the good cells alone. Right now you have to take them all out, and let the body recover. Lord only knows how long I’ve had this cancer — the pneumonias started back in 2003, along with the “illnesses” no one could identify. I feel so much better now in comparison to these past periods in my life since then it’s hard to believe I’m “this sick”  with a disease most medicos would consider ultimately terminal. And, indeed, it might be so — save for the fact that this kind of death you only have to die ONCE, and I’ve no intention of falling prey to it in the immediate future. After all, I am 60, which is fairly young — but not so young that I’d have regrets about my life, which I don’t. I’ve done some good things, in fact, great things, and am proud both of my track record and the people I’ve been able to help along with my talents. There isn’t a day goes by that I haven’t been grateful for that opportunity. Sure, some things could have been done better, but the fact that they weren’t doesn’t bother me all that much. You do what you can do.

Things I relish now, my marraige to my wonderful hubby, my friends and family, my pets, all the stuff that makes my life my life. It’s all good and been worth every breath.


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