More #TMIFiles and Such. in These Foolish Things

Hey. Hi. How you doing?

I guess we last met here on my DISCO day, which was last Friday. I’m sick of talking to you about cancer and chemo bullshit, but it’s kind of what I’ve got right now, so here goes (plus, I do want to document this for posterity):

So. Disconnect Day was Friday. I worked from home on Friday for a couple of reasons.

First, it was supposed to rain like a mofo and it was supposed to start right around the time I’d need to leave the office and head to the infusion center, so I asked New Boss (needs a name that’s not just “Boss” since she’s new and very different from Old Boss) if it was OK to work from home before disconnect, and she was super cool with it.

Second, I didn’t have any meetings scheduled at all on Friday and no need to be in the office anyway. I used Friday as a catch-up and answered a few urgent emails, but honestly, that’s about it.

I felt good on Friday and even better when I went in for the disconnect. There’s something physical and emotional about being unhooked from a deflated chemo balloon after 48 hours (and no showering allowed!). It’s literally like unplugging from an outlet in the wall or something. Or maybe like a dog being let off her leash. It’s such a freeing sensation for some reason. I don’t know how else to describe it.

This time I asked for the “optional” fluids after disconnect. This takes a little over an hour, and it’s literally just loading up with fluids. I hadn’t asked for them before and they told me that they normally give fluids to people who are not feeling well or are dehydrated, but why the fuck not just give it to all the patients? If fluids are going to make someone feel better, and I have to be there to get unplugged anyway, it’s worth an extra hour of my time if I’m going to be more hydrated and energized, right?

So yeah. Got the fluids and then unhooked and ahhhhhh.

Now. After disconnect is usually when the yucks come on. Not right away, mind you, but within a couple of hours I start feeling weary and tired, but not bad per se. And within a couple of days, the nausea really kicks in.

Well this time, Nurse J (the NP who I see every other visit) had given me some nausea meds to experiment with to see if they helped with the bad nausea, and guess what? They sure did. Not only did they help with nausea, but they made my whole person feel better. I can’t really explain. I just felt better this whole round. I think it’s that I knew more of what to expect and that I get better at dealing with it each time.

And also, I have to say, the drug that they gave me (in a very small dose, by the way), is also an antipsychotic when given in larger doses, so I wonder if that had anything to do with my elevated mood during this time? I was only allowed 3 tabs to take right before bedtime, and I had ah-mazing sleep those three nights. So. Whatever it was, it worked.

That doesn’t mean that I’m not dreading #4, but it means that I seem to understand what’s happening a little better each time. I will never, ever get used to this, but if I can deal with it a little better each time, then that’s a win (of sorts) in my book.

Weekend was nice-ish. I hadn’t really made plans to do anything because I didn’t know how I was going to feel. So I did a lot of puttering around the apartment and walking the dog and went to a little boutique close by and I saw the fam on Sunday. I actually tried to go to the farmer’s market too but didn’t want to walk through the few skuzzy blocks that seem to have gotten much, much worse during Covid, so I drove over there and when I couldn’t find a parking spot, I bailed.

Regardless, nice-ish. I felt decent. Almost no nausea. The weather was great. All good.

And now it’s already Tuesday. I am at work, about to jump on a Zoom so I need to run. I feel like I have so much more to write, but I need to sort it out first…

I’ll be back soon.
GS