Where can I find a good beekeeping suit? Asking for a friend.
July 11, 2019
The side effects of chemo are totally insane.*
Chemo update -- 3 down, 21 rounds to go!
I folded laundry, danced around, and listened to this CD tonight. While I never miss living in New Jersey, I'm still from the Garden State, and I like Bruce Springsteen. Sporting this rather dyke aesthetic distresses me, though, and I need to find some more attire with easy access to the chemo port. One shoulder maxi dresses, maybe? Strapless dresses with a cardigan? Leggings and gladiator sandals helped, but I'm becoming a fashionista. Can I claim this as a side effect? If my biggest gripe with cancer is lack of feminine clothing choices to wear to chemotherapy, I probably can chalk it up to a #richwhiteladyproblem.
Round 1: Two weeks ago, everything tasted like metal and the smell of coffee made me nauseous. It was annoying, but not the worst thing in the world as side effects of infusions of poison could be.
The cure makes you question your sanity, though.
Chemo brain is a totally real thing, and that shizz started right away, and will likely continue throughout the treatments and up to two years after. It's insane, as I will be mid-thought, and then... whatever I was just thinking about is gone. It's indiscriminate, too, so whether I'm deep in thought focused on abstract or academic concepts, or making cereal, I can just as easily forget. I find myself thinking stuff like, "Why in gay hell was I trying to connect the concept of prosthetic memory to a Von Ranke-ian turning point? Was that where I was going with this?"
I feel you, Memepuppy.
This is not resctricted to nerdhouse stuff all the time, because this morning, I couldn't remember how to make cereal. I shit you not, Interwebs, I couldn't remember if it was milk first, then cereal. Obviously, I'm not a peasant, and it's cereal first, then sliced fruit on it, then milk. Duh, Chrissie.
It's not often in your life that you get Kafka-esque moments of absurd self awareness of your own hard-core moments of forgetfulness. It's like I get to fully comprehend some of the symptoms of dementia, with the lucidity of someone without it. I find it a bit frustrating at times (I almost ruined the cereal, WTF brain), but it's not entirely unpleasant, and it's a part of the human condition that not everyone gets a chance to run with.
Awesome, I'm now motivated to wallpaper the garage. #mania
Also, I alternated between being suddenly tired and oddly manic from the cocktail of antihistamines and steroids, respectively, that I needed in order to get the Taxol fully infused. That lasted two full days.
Round 2: Last week, as Round 2 of chemo was not to be outdone by Round 1, I am literally allergic to f*cking sunlight. There's a chance this could abate, but right now? No dice. I need to be a mole person now, in addition to sporting a shaved head.
Do you know how hard it is to avoid sunshine when (1) this far west in a time zone, (2) live this far north, and (3) in a desert plateau that doesn't get rain in the summer? Holy crap, I do now.
Can I get this on Amazon in a petite medium? It matches my wig.
There's no photos of me with this before tonight (see above), because this allergy messes with my vanity. It looked like I had measles all over my face and neck, and I was not about to have that digitally immortalized, like a horrific binary angel that you will never fully scrub from the internets. It's not just about appearance, as the physical sensation of UV rays touching me feels like I'm being burned.
I feel you, Nosferatu! #struggleisreal
I didn't embrace a hermetic lifestyle or anything, just no photos. I've been to work, various stores, restaurants, the gym, walked the dog, and went out to see the MMA fights on Saturday with Joe. I looked like a monster, but not contagious. I will keep suiting up like I'm ready to keep bees and/or publish a manifesto, and I leave the house. Indoors, I can dress as normally as I ever do.
Here I am, failing at avoiding the daytime while walking the dog. Don't worry, I dressed like the Unabomber. Selfie forthcoming now that the rash looks less hideous.
I was warned that my mouth might feel weird: mission accepted. My gums sometimes itch like crazy. Between the side effects, the shaved head, and the implanted port, I feel like a minor character in a sci-fi made for TV movie.
Round 3: What fresh hell will chemo deliver this week?
My money is on bone pain! They gave me an injection of Xgeva (denosumab) for the metastatic stuff in the bones, to prevent fractures. So as the bones get more dense, I'm likely to feel that.
* For those of you who were concerned I hadn't blogged in a few days, I'm still alive. No death watch yet, b*tches. I only tend to blog 1-2 times a week.