Bad night and bad day.
Bad night because I had pain. I think it's all the liquid; it's not coming out fast enough and causing pressure. I'm trying to drink more tea today and to finish my 2 litres earlier, so I won't have to keep getting up all night.
Bad day because of the itching. My father had some skin condition that was never understood. He itched and nothing helped. Slight rash, more itch. The Itch From Hell. I never fully understood it until I developped a mild form of it, myself. It usually affects my shoulders. Creams of any sort make it worse and antihistamines help a little.
Chemo can engender skin problems, or aggravate them. Today when we were walking the dogs, I scratched a mild itch on my right arm. To get from A to Z as quickly as possible, within fifteen minutes, both whole upper arms itched beyond anything I can describe. Sort of like a million pin pricks. Probably what it felt like when the Redskins tied you over the anthill and doused you with honey. Couldn't stop scratching long enough to take a pill. While I scratched and whimpered, Nick started the shower for me; it took me four tries to stop scratching long enough to get undressed. Clean skin and the antihistamine have kicked in now and I can control myself.
Not my best day, but I'm sure there will be worse.
I should mark these posts, so people are free to skip them. But here's a goodie that I forgot from my day at the hospital. Nick and I stopped for coffee in the morning and I was thinking about the treatment in a fuzzy sort of way when a fully formed thought came to mind: "I'm going to the hospital to get well." Incorrigibly optomisitic.