It's almost over!

Oh, how I do enjoy Wednesdays.

Left work at 1:15 with a fever of 100.5 degrees, slept pretty much straight from 1:40-4:30, drifted in and out of consciousness for a few hours, and in bed for the night by 9:00.

But that doesn't matter nearly as much as: only one more of the fuckers to go. Seven days from right now, I will be completely done with chemotherapy drugs. And 28 days from today is The End, in which I talk to my doctor, etc. Four weeks, I can handle. Especially because most of that four weeks will be drug-free and proud.

At the moment, I even feel pretty much like a normal human being, albeit a sleepy one.

Weekend Thoughts III

The generally anemic* quality of my posts for the past week bears some explanation and apology, for those who still read me.

You see, each an' every single cycle of chemotherapy weakens your body a little bit more than the last. Because, although the weeks off let the system recuperate a bit, it's not enough to regain 100% functionality. So every cycle leaves me a bit more winded, because I wasn't as good to start.

It's also a bit geometric: the weaker I start, the more is taken out of me. I grew proportionally weaker during Cycle 3 than Cycle 2, etc.

Which is all to say, I felt really goddamn worn-out as of roughly Wednesday morning, and I'm still not completely back in the world of humanity. I'm not in the world of humanity at all, actually, just a reasonable facsimile thereof. I have pervasive acid reflux, a general inability to focus, and a complete unwillingness to do anything physically stressful, like stand, talk on the phone, or drink water.

The good news, is that it's effectively over. I have to go to the hospital 5 more times for this whole cancer-type deal (I am going to assume that surgery will prove unnecessary, because dammit!...well, just dammit). Only two of those are chemo. And while Wednesdays have consistenly sucked, they haven't been long-term sucky, just one-off shots of sucky.

At one point, I had hoped that this board would serve as an inspiring tale of how cancer doesn't have to ruin your life. And it has, insofar as it's mostly a tale of how thoroughly chemotherapy ruins your life. Actually, I felt just fine with cancer for almost a full year. It's just the seven weeks of treatment that have driven me into suicidal despair.

Kidding! I was never suicidal. And it hasn't been that big a deal; 4 days out of every 21 have been almost intolerable, and then I get better. Remember kids, check yourself for suspicious lumps every month. And tell your doctor if you find any. Because I want every last goddamn one of you to suffer the way I have.

Kidding again! I wish cancer on no-one! Because it's a bad thing. Even though I have inspiringly sailed through it in a measly seven weeks.

Seriously, I cannot believe that people manage to do this for months at a time. I have really indescribable respect for those who did. I'm just coasting through on bile and sarcasm, and I am truly in awe of those who had to actually suffer for huge portions of their lives.

*A weak pun.

The last full day

My fifteenth full day of chemotherapy is also, thank God, Christ and all the little angels, the last. And I feel pretty damned good, if I do say so myself. A little worn down, and I have some nasty acid reflux...but FUCK IT! I AM DONE WITH CHEMO! (at least, in practical terms...the little half-hour trips on Wednesday don't count, at least not to my immediate psychological well-being).

As I posted a couple days ago, what remains is simplicity itself: a quick shot of Neulasta on Monday, two Wednesdays (and we never know what fun to expect with those, do we...), and then, on the faraway so close day of April 25, a CT scan that, God willing and the crick don't rise, will show that I have No Cancer Of Any Kind in my body.

This is such a fucking relief. And I'm not even, like done yet. So in about two weeks, I will be Cap'n Ecstatic, I will. Watch this space for more.

Home stretch

I've been kickin' it in Lake Villa since yesterday evening, as I forgot to mention. Which is sort of nice (I don't have to cook) and sort of really crappy (1hr+ car ride instead of 3 minute car ride. Which nearly killed me this morning).

I am so insanely close to done, I don't mind how utterly weak and tired I feel right now. And it is rather curious, just how week and tired I feel. Tomorrow should be a delight.

But Good God! only one more full day of chemotherapy! I can't even begin to say how happy that makes me feel.

Anyway, I spent most of today sleeping. Which is why I have to indulge in platitudes.

The end is near

The big news of the day is that I have the utter final schedule of everything:
-Tomorrow is chemo.
-Friday is chemo.
-Monday is neulasta.
-3/30 is bleomcyin
-4/6 is bleomycin.
-4/25 is my CT scan.
-4/28, I see Dr. Shevrin, and he theoretically tells me that I'm healthy.
-4/28, evening: I carouse.

Not that is hasn't been fun, but it hasn't. And I'm thrilled out of my mind that it's so close to over.

In general news, I feel good (just a lil' bit of stomach acid) and I'm hanging together pretty damn well. And I'm really, mostly excited that I have only two more full days of chemo. Thank Christ.

Twofer

The internet was out last night, so I couldn't post. To those who were horribly disappointed by that:
1) I'm sorry.
2) Get a life.

The good news is that I'm just fine. I found out that the last CT scan will be 2-3 weeks after the last bleomycin. So 4-5 weeks from tomorrow, plus a day or two, and I'll know if I'm cured.

Also, I'm really tired, but that's not so much the cancer or the chemo as it is Cerridwen, waking me up at 3:00 AM the last two nights.

Bad kitty.

FUCKING WEDNESDAYS!

I didn't have a fever, and isn't that a good thing...

But I did sleep pretty much straight through from 5:00 'til about 8:30. And I'm not, like "awake" right now, and will be turning in early. I want to reiterate: it's very annoying that my worst side effects are happening because of an OTC drug.

Sorry to those who I offended over the phone (I was quite popular this afternoon), but in my defense, you did wake me up. And I don't wake up easy.

Three weeks! 21 days! Hoorah!

(Even though y'all will be spring breaking it up, I'm still going to post. Read if it is your desire to do so).

I hate Wednesdays

Yesterday started out well, although I did have to wait forever. (The lobby was standing-room only. Kind of depressing.) Got filled up with bleomycin, went to work, etc.

The fun kicked in around 3:30 in the afternoon, when I started to fall asleep at my desk. I'd already arranged for my parents to come by at 4:30 (dinner et al), so I decided to just wait it out. By the time they arrived, I was pretty damned dead.

So I went home, took a nap - took several naps actually, each about 30 minutes long, over a four-hour period - and found out that I had a temperature of 102 degrees. Yee-haw.

The only thing worse than being drugged-out and tired is being drugged-out, tired, and delirious from fever. I don't think I did things last night, but I don't know for sure. I do remember at least one completely incoherent phone conversation with Amy (sorry) and the intention of writing an e-mail to Nick Young (if I didn't: sorry. If I did: very sorry).

The fever broke at about 9:45, I managed to eat a fairly substantial amount of food, and was in bed around 11:15. I slept well enough, although I'm still pretty damn tired.

My question: why do these things only happen on off-weeks?

Weekend Thoughts II

I have successfully survived another full week of chemo, although it took a little more out of me than the first time. This despite my midweek burst of energy and delight. "Energy" and "delight" in quotes.

The very good news: I had a hot dog today! Because red meat is tasty, and good for my diminished red blood cells. And as my dietician has said, I should eat that which I crave, as long as I can keep it down. And I know that one must have a ludicrously relative sense of good news for this to qualify, but you know what? I have cancer. I'll make my own damn rules.

I am feeling better, though. And I'm looking forward to work again. Which still scares me to say.

Two weeks down

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that someone had spent the last five days flooding my system with toxic chemicals in the hope of destroying clusters of cells in my body.

Seriously, I'm not so much tired...it's more that I'm really fucking worn out. I still have an appetite, I'm not nauseous, all that jazz...but good God, do I feel out of it. Ain't got no right to complain, though - in five weeks, it will all be over, and let's face it, the last two of those are going to be a cakewalk.

But I feel so...ragged. Like I've spent the last week starving myself, or not sleeping, or God knows what.

But you know what, it's another week done. I am one week closer to being cancer-free. Which is all that really matters. Or sumthin'.

I am the belle of the ball

This cancer thing has brought me into some degree of celebrity, thanks to the efforts of some former CRCers, who I will not embarass by name. Nonetheless, I appreciate your aid in bringing my cheery gospel of "it's just a dread disease, not the end of the world" to a larger audience.

And it really isn't the end of the world; I still maintain that the new Warner Bros. cartoon will prove much more harmful to my long-term health and happiness than anything involving some small number of rampaging mutant cells.

Especially after my news of yesterday, which still gives me a warm and fuzzy, can-do Hardy Boys-style, America in the 1950's, we can achieve anything! sort of rush. What's odd is that, two months ago, I would have been devastated to hear that I would need to be in chemo for nine weeks. And now? WOO-HOO, IT'S NOT TWELVE! We take our victories where we can.

Thanks to M. Deline and Mlle. Reeder, for paying me visits today. As rip-snorting as chemotherapy is, it's really good to have someone there with me.

The bad: Jade poked a hole right through my vein on the first time, leaving a small geyser of blood to deal with; and right now, I am so damn tired I can hardly type. Which is to say that I, Timothy Brayton, all of 23 years of age and a recent college graduate, will be asleep by 10:30 on a weeknight. I am sorry to have failed you all. Good night.

One last thought before I leave - as of today, I have been to the hospital on 12 separate days for chemo-related drugs: 9 full days, 3 partial days. After today, I will have another 12 days: 6 full, 6 partial. If that's not good news, tell me what is.

'O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' He chortled in his joy

The best news I could have reasonably hoped for came through today: my blood tests show an almost shocking reduction in cancer markers, and I will only be going through three cycles total of chemotherapy. This means that my last week ends 3/25 (most of y'all will be on spring break) and the last time I will have to go in for anything chemo will be 4/6.

A couple weeks after that, after the drugs have completely abandoned my system, I will go in for a CT scan, which will show if any mass remains, and if it is large enough to justify surgical removal. Dr. Shevrin is optimistic that this will not be the case.

Today's session went well enough - my parents stopped by, as I had failed to procure food for lunch - with a new nurse, Jade Distajo, who got me out of there pretty quickly. And I feel less tired than on any preceding Wednesday. So goodness, all around!

Miles to go before I sleep

I get joy out of weird things now. Like this morning, when Marilyn was setting up the IV: it only took one try, and it just kind of slid in - hardly any pain, no blood, and she used paper tape so it wouldn't tear my arm hair so bad.

I'm becoming quite the IV connoisseur.

The bad news was that I was in the hospital for six hours today - not because I had more work done (in fact, I had more down yesterday, with the blood test) - just because Marilyn, bless her heart, is a little bit addled. I brought two movies, watched both, and still had more than a full hour of napping. Not that I complain...naps are good.

Other news: the stubbly bits of hair are mostly gone now, so my head actually looks quite a bit better. This is relativeness at its most aggresive, of course.

I'm a little fatigued right now. Kind of surprised, but not really. I've been warned about the cumulative effects of each cycle.