It Might Get Messy

Actually, at this point there is no doubt remaining. It IS going to get messy. In fact, it’s beginning already. But before I override my whine-prevention chip, let’s start 50 years ago or so.

My Mom’s best friend was staying over one night at the cottage in Pompton Lakes. Given that it WAS an actual, tiny cottage, the poor woman was relegated to the couch in the living room. Which was the same room as the television set, just around the dining room corner from the kitchen. To this day, Ms. BJG (as we’ll call her) recalls awakening to what she has since described as “the most disgusting smell I’ve ever had to put up with.” Mind you, Ms. BJG had spent considerable time living in the Philippines, where every second or third smell fits easily into the “disgusting” category. But it turns out, my sister and I were parked on the living room rug, watching Rocky and Bullwinkle and eating cans of Campbell’s Cream of Chicken Soup straight out of the can—cold and with no dilution. That concentrated canned soup aroma was more than Ms. BJG could handle. 

Actually, cold cream of chicken soup was one of my favorite quick snacks when I was a kid. For a real treat, I’d smear a can over a hot omelet, which made an actually delicious lunch. I passed my taste for cold canned soup on to my sister. Pushing Ms. BJG past her tolerance limits.

I bring this up because the taste and smell of my now radiation-cooked tumor region now tastes precisely like Campbell’s Cream of Chicken Soup, cold and undiluted, with a heavy sprinkling of onion salt straight out of the pantry. Now that I’m trapped with the smell, I find it unbearably disgusting. What goes around comes around, if you’ll permit me the cliché!

But that’s not why things are getting messy. They are getting messy because a) the radiation treatments are starting to kick in. Doctor N says he can see radiation burns at the tumor site. I know I can FEEL radiation burns all through the right side of my face and especially on my palate where the tumor is. Also, the radiation is sapping my strength. Some days it is all I can do to break my day-long sleep enough to try to get my calorie ration and get awake enough to take my second (afternoon) treatment. And the problem with the energy drain from the radiation is that sleep, while feeling absolutely impossible to resist, doesn’t really help. I’m just as exhausted when I I’m awake as when I’m napping. 

The hospital has helped me out with this problem. They’ve moved me into an actual private office all my own, with a door that closes! See photo below.

 Last week I worked hard editing a major book manuscript and getting some work done on our urban ecosystems book. So the office was very helpful. When I was awake. Still, it’s a nice gesture by the hospital to help me keep working while my physiology is taking a beating.

They’ve also initiated my chemotherapeutic infusions. On Tuesday, via freehand IV, I got my first treatment. The active ingredients of the chemo infusion for this round are two. One is Carboplatin, whose side effects include immunosuppression, anemia, fever, “very bad belly pain”, trouble breathing, loose stools, spontaneous bruising and bleeding, weakness and tiredness, nausea and vomiting, skin irritation, hair loss, and potential for serious anaphylaxis, among others. Attempting to get around these contretemps, the IV cocktail includes a long list of substances designed to suppress the ill effects of the drug. One of which is a high-powered steroid that thankfully hits my physiology like an IV of high-powered opiates. Almost makes the 3 hour chemo session worthwhile!

Did I mention they want to do MORE surgery on me this week? The medical port in my shoulder is nonfunctional, they want to remove and replace it to avoid freehanding my IVs. So this week is logistical hell. I gotta drive to GBMC to get my morning radiation, drive back to my GP for pre-op, go back to GBMC for evening radiation and to get blood drawn, next day I go in for surgery between radiation doses. I expect I’ll be quite the mess.

Really, the most annoying thing at this point is the production of really thick, sticky mucous in my sinuses and throat. I can cough some of it up, some of it needs to be blown out when it builds to a large volume. If I tip too much the wrong way when I sleep, I feel like I’m drowning. Actually, I probably AM drowning. 

Anyway. The other chemo drug is Paclitaxel. Side effects are bone marrow degradation, fever, anemia, vomiting, mouth and lip irritation (my lips are like shredded tissue at this point), hair loss, numbness, muscle and joint pain, and inability to get pregnant. 

Clutching at straws, I’ll go with that last side effect as a good sign. And hope they keep piling that steroid into the cocktail to suppress the rest of the list. 

OK, sports fans. That’s it for this week, all. I am just too sick to do any more beyond this flagship column. I'm going to leave the rest of the weblog empire right where it is for this week, and get caught up on it during the week and ready for next weekend. So hold off a week before you check on  the cycle of http://docviper.livejournal.com/ , http://theresaturtleinmysoup.blogspot.com/ , http://sustainablebiospheredotnet.blogspot.com/ , http://aehsfoundation.org/ (go to the lower left on the home page and click through to the blog), and don’t forget to check DAC Crossley’s wild west blog. 

I am also behind on emails. I’ll make that my special target this week, to get emails out to all. Special shout-outs must go to Ms T in rural Alabama for the FANTASTIC gift package. Not only stuff to entertain me, but I am called out by name in her church’s prayer rounds. Given what a delightful person she is, and how much she cares, it may be that she can single-handedly (along with her church compatriots) help me find the road to recovery from the branching paths that lead to oblivion. Thanks again and love to everyone!!