...and I am not known as a man of few words, except when only a few will do. I apologize for being so long in posting, it seems easy enough to do, however it is the thought to fingers part that gets in the way. This last was not an "easy" infusion. Oh, did I give the impression somehow that the whole thing was a Sunday afternoon ice cream? Most people know that is not true, I have been tolerating it well. My Drs. are pleased at the results so far, that does not mean it's been fun, even if I make jokes at my own expense I consider it well spent to lube the rails. I have had my bouts of emotional roller-coaster tornado upheaval, but you can't live there, and this is about living. So yeah, I have had my ass kicked, I beat the onset of a cold that tried to become pneumonia, and I couldn't place bets on my immune system right now. On the other hand I am not sure anything else could live in my body, it is feeling a bit toxic.
Wow is the only way I could describe this week since last Wednesday. I could feel it coming on even late that night, the shell shock apprehension was still emanating from the rush earlier that day. Thursday's bag of juice was more routine (and confident), but the damage that would be had been done (though compounding was now minimized). It is my theory (and I claim no medical qualifications), that the ratio of chemo to blood volume helps determine how it impacts your body. This is why they often (usually) infuse with diluting agents like glucose or saline water depending on the compatible chemistry of the drug. It does come out of your pores, and your tears, and everything else. Well, I found I was very thirsty the next day and I was drinking coconut water, and herb tea, and yes, even water... I am so tired now; yesterday I had 3 little sausages and instant oatmeal, and a chocolate chip cookie (homemade from scratch thanks Ani), today I have sauage and egg Aunt Jemima breakfast, yeah I know but I can run the micro wave without too much but sometimes cooking is just too exhausting. "You mean then I have to eat it too?" Sorry, fatigue sets in, going to bed. Maybe I'll reheat it later. If I'm interested.
Yeah, it feels like my guts hate me. "What the hell have you done? they scream. Breathe, and sigh that, let it out, like just running around the block and getting socked in the plexus... only you haven't moved. The daily fight where you need not lift your arms or punch the bag, or jump the rope or run on the beach and you're tired as hell but you really can't sleep right now, not now, not again...
I did write a song a couple of weeks ago called "Seattle Air" and I hope I can get it recorded sometime...
