Sep 28 2012


It’s been a rough couple of weeks.

My doctor warned me that the only thing that is truly cumulative about chemo is fatigue, and it appears to have hit. I’m not myself when I’m tired all the time (is anyone?). And, luckily, but also not, I’m also not being distracted seriously by other side effects. I’ve gotten used to the mouth sores and the numb fingers, so the only thing around to distract me is work, various books or movies or tv shows, or my own internal dialogue. Because I’m so exhausted, I can’t really do anything substantive at work, so that’s out. Books and movies and tv shows are only distracting to a point, so I’ve spent the last two weeks stuck in my own internal dialogue. My mind has been batting around the “what ifs?” and the “so whens” and the “what abouts” and the “if onlys” and it has NOT been pleasant, to say the least.


Sep 14 2012

A “Typical” Week at the Hospital

I’ve been writing a lot about what happens when I’m not at the hospital…the residue of chemo treatment, if you will. However, it’s 5:45am on Day 5 of Round Four and perhaps about time I shared with you life during treatment, Days 1-6.

Because everything takes three times longer than it should at the hospital, my oncologist and I agreed to start treatment on Monday (Day 1) morning in her office this time around, and then move me into the hospital around noon. This way I would be able to theoretically start the 96-hour infusion by 3 or 4pm, putting the every-24-hour-bag-changes at a somewhat reasonable hour during the day.


Sep 12 2012


Throughout my childhood, I remember both parents (but mostly my mother) repeating the Emerson quote “a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” I don’t remember if this was part of chastising us, educating us, or helping us bad-mouth bullies incomprehensibly, but the quote made an impression.

Being young, I immediately understood that a hobgoblin (and therefore a foolish consistency) was bad because it contained the word “goblin.” Clearly, it was ugly too because it was covered with hobs. These, when I was very young, resembled a cross between plantars warts and chicken pox. As I got older, they morphed into a horrible case of white pustuled acne. Even now when I know what a hobgoblin is (Puck is one of them, described in poetry as a friendly but troublesome creature, human-like, small, and hairy, and able to shape-shift) my own personal vision is still of a goblin (a grayish, pig-like creature with a curly tail, a bad attitude, opposable thumbs, and the ability to walk on his hind legs…imagine a pig with an orc for a distant relative) with a plethora of Ayers Rock type skin lesions. Still ugly, and still, clearly, “bad.”