treatment #5

I am kinda starting to dread these chemo treatments. The recovery time is lengthening each time, it seems, with new side effects and pains. When I told my onco I was starting to resent the whole process he just looked at me and said, "oh, so, you're human? I was starting to think you were some kind of super-woman."
I suppose that just about sums it up. I had been feeling pretty good, bouncing back pretty fast, up to the last one.

Not really different from the rest in the moment. Except my port behaved right away and we didn't have to do much but lay me back in the recliner, and we had it giving up blood. But then I mentioned that I only had one treatment after this, so I wouldn't be keeping it much longer, and she informs me that no, they like to keep them in until well after radiation, because they'll take blood while that's going on, and then usually, she said, they leave them in until you've been cleared at the one-year mark.

Excuse me?

I do NOT want this piece of plastic, with its tube going directly into my jugular, just sitting there, for no good reason, for another YEAR. I'm gonna have to talk to someone about that. I can take being stuck with a needle if they need to, for whatever testing they'll want to do, once the prescribed treatments are finished with. But this THING has a popped stitch that pokes from the inside, and the tube jabs my neck in some positions when I'm trying to sleep, and I just think, maybe, we can do without it. I hope.

Anyway.

So they'd scheduled me a bit late in the day, 2pm, for what should take about 3 hrs. I came early for the blood stuff, so I didn't hold them up. But it was getting toward 5pm, and the first bag of poison was still not finished. I understand they'd like to go home, and I wanted to be done, too. After twice thinking the bag was empty, and it wasn't, the nurse decided to squeeze out what was left so she could switch to the other poison. Yeah. I felt that. She stood behind me so I didn't have to see her do it, but I could hear it, and then, my whole body went quite warm for about a minute. Quite warm. Ick.

It was really strange.

Then, the rest went as normal. Didn't take much longer and I was done.

It was after 5, so I didn't plan to go back to work, even though I felt fine. I did pop in for a few more minutes, to finish up some things, because I knew I'd be a bit spacey the rest of the week, if not worse.

And basically, that was all I was. At first. Kinda spacey Thursday. Kinda getting tired Friday, and only sort of woozy Saturday, but knowing my body would need sleep. I didn't try to push it. I tried to sleep. I just couldn't quite sleep enough, maybe. Or maybe, my body is more destroyed this time, and I needed more. By Monday, it was evident I wasn't going to make it to work. Still didn't sleep so much as I just lay there, resting (which is almost good enough), but it wasn't so much helping me to feel better.

I kept thinking, as I lay there drifting in and out of sleep, only getting up to use the bathroom, that I might be feeling better, sooner, if only I had an IV fluid drip. It's really hard to drink enough liquids when water tastes nasty, and even harder to drink when you're sleeping. So I know I wasn't getting enough to keep me hydrated, but still, I couldn't seem to make myself drink more. I keep trying. But my mouth feels dry (which is another side-effect, new for me) and no matter how much I seem to drink, I'm sure it's not enough, yet.

So here it is Friday, and I'm still feeling worn out. I've been in to work every day, but some days, not even for half the day.

And my room....it sort of....stinks. Just a sort of "funk" I can only say isn't...normal.

I think I'll be able to manage changing the sheets, doing some laundry. I should be able to. If not, I'll make my boy help me. Understand, it's not the laundry that will wear me out. That part is easy. It's the whole walking around the double bed multiple times while I put on new sheets. That can be kind of tiring, all on your own. I've always thought that when the bed is too big to make while standing to one side, there ought to be someone else on the other side to help you out. It's sort of a two-person job, when the bed is big enough for two. Should be, anyway. But that's neither here nor there. One problem at a time. Get past the cancer, and then see what's next.

I am so grateful there is only one more of these to go. At least then, when I start feeling better afterwards, I don't have to remind myself there is another one coming up.