(The following was originally posted on my Carepages blog for family and friends during my treatment.)
I sat across Tim at lunch today and said, I have nothing to talk about because I’m not doing anything. He disagreed, but the conversation remained muted.
I’ve spent the majority of the past couple of weeks sitting and doing nothing. I’ve watched — actually watched — more sports than I have in my life. Normally, I listen while working on the computer, crocheting, or doing something else. Now I just watch. It doesn’t make me any more of a fan, but I know more of what is going on during the games.
I did have my doctor visit on Monday, May 1, which was anti-climatic. Nothing new to report other than to move forward toward phase two of the treatment. I had chemo number five on May 2. That one was like landing with turbulence. As before, they give several pre-drugs via infusion, but this one had something that left me feeling agitated. They also give a pretty good dose of Benadryl, which made me extremely groggy. I kept dosing off. The other downside of this phase is that the main drug is infused over three-plus hours (slower during the first two), so it makes for a very, very long, slow, day. And since I'm not fully coherent, that makes the day seem to drag all the more. Three more of those to go.
But now I’m in what we could call recovery week of that last treatment. Mostly I find my energy levels to be the biggest thing. (They are pretty much non-existent.) I’ve had a few new side effects, including some nerve issues in the extremities (which they predicted), along with intermittent body aches. I sometimes have leg cramps in the night as well. These seem minor overall but tend to be taxing and frustrating when the mind wants to do things and the body says, “no, we don’t have the energy for that, let’s not. Let’s just sit instead.”
One new experience this week happened when son, Mark, came down with bronchitis. Normally, Mom would be there with flying colors, bringing Gatorade, soup, and other motherly devices. Instead, my role shifted to that of quarantine. Stay away. Don’t go near. (Do you know how hard that is for a mother?!) I’m told Matthew may have a touch of it too. Of course, they are managing. . . but mothers want to be there. Mothers want to make the world right again. Mother’s Day may be more of the same. . . wave at Mom on the other side of the protective glass.
That’s where I’m at for now, just a little flower under protective glass.