Chemo #40

Standard

It’s a mixed bag and I’m hardly surprised.

It’s time for a tumour marker again and… it’s gone up.  Not what I wanted to hear but the good news is it was a marginal increase from 119 to 130.  Annoyingly, it seems to be hovering at this level.

Courtesy of my gut, I’m of the opinion that my body simply needs a break.  Well, there’s not long to go now. 2 more chemo sessions and I’m done.  My oncologist wants to give me as heavy a burst as possible on which to end off.  That means proactively preventing delays caused by low blood levels (a side effect of the treatment which can’t be helped by diet, lifestyle or anything remotely under my control).

Historically, my bloods drop off to levels too low to receive treatment but not low enough for medical aid (for all the help they’ve given me, I bite my tongue to cut off the “blood-sucking sharks” comment) to cover Neupogen (blood boosting) shots so I’ve usually had to take a week’s delay for levels to improve on their own before having the next treatment.  So I left after this session, with an injection to administer on Monday to be ready for next Friday’s chemo session.  The same will happen next week – maybe.  I don’t count on anything being a sure thing.

I bumped into chemo pal B.  We had a laugh at our common ground of annoyance over feeling crap pretty much most of the time compounded by comments like, “but you look so well”.  What do you say to that?  I get it all the time and yes, I do look good for someone with a dread disease.  I’d probably say the same thing were I in an outsider’s shoes.

It utterly belies the real stuff like having to pace myself during the day to get through it, taking a nap in the late afternoon (fortunately I have an understanding employer), turning in before 9pm, waking physically tired (although not sleepy), managing my schedule to the point that I cook only once a week and freeze portions so that I have healthy meals throughout the week without having to cook daily.  Energy – my preciousssss.  The list is long and full of frustration so I’ll stop there.

Just 2 to go before I can start recovering from this awful annihilation.

Only 2.

Solamente.

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4 thoughts on “Chemo #40

  1. Nina Basson

    Solamente! A word of hope when it is something uneasy you have to go through.
    It has been a long road and now it is time to look forward to the life after the treatment. We will pray and hope – lots of us. You have been courageous and simply marvellous!
    Love, mom

    Like

    • Good point. I hadn’t seen it as that but yes, it does have a hopeful feel. At this juncture, I think I’m habitually stuck on hopeful rather than seeking it out on purpose! I wonder what else I’m stuck on:-/

      Like

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