Tubs

Chemo yesterday.  The doctor looked at my hands and feet and asked if they bleed occasionally.  Bleed?  They can get worse?  She lowered my Taxol dose by 25%.

The sun came out on Sunday -- and stayed.  The Mistral is not blowing.  It's not warm, but it's not frigid, either.  So today, leaving the hospital, instead of head retracted like a turtle against the cold and wind, I was walking tall, eyes forward.  And saw myself in a full-length glass building.

Omigod!  I'm going to have to stop whispering endearments  such as "Tubby Tum" and Pudjin (a Yiddishism for pudding) to the animals before they start whispering back.

When the doctor examined me, I asked her if the tumour felt smaller.  Yes, she thought so, "but," she said, it's a little hard to tell with all the weight I've put on.

I think maybe we should find a mirror and put it on the wall. In the meantime, I'll just go eat a doughnut and cheer myself up.

I Have a Syndrome

First, my energised period didn't last a whole long time. Maybe half a day. Which is just as well since my feet have reached the point where I don't want to walk unless it's a matter of life and death. Or the bathroom.

And to think that only a couple of days have elapsed since I took the dogs for a long walk. That's Palmar-Plantar Erythrodysesthesia (PPE) for you. More familiarly known as Hand-Foot Syndrome. It has affected my feet and ankles and the tops and sides of my hands (not the palms, as indicated by what I've read so far). Evidently, ice does not help prevent it when using Taxol.

Following Wednesday's treatment, my right heel hurt so much, I can barely walk. I guess that I won't be going against the treatment advice and jogging.

Energized

I have noticed since the last couple of chemo sessions, that I feel fine the day afterwards. I do things, even, like translations or trying to design our new kitchen. This lasts for 2 or 3 days and then I start to go downhill. At least I have hope that one day I may actually do some chores around the house. And that they won't feel like chores.

Yesterday the nurse asked why I was wearing my moon boots. "They're the only shoes I can get into," I said. "And now my hands and face are affected, too." My face, so far, just has a few red blotches, but I anticipate the day when I won't be able to go anywhere without a veil.

She took one look at my hands and went to find the doctor. I now have two types of cortisone creams, one for my hands and feet and one for my face.

Whatever happened to white gloves now that I need them?

Good Day in Hospital - II

The things I forgot when writing last post.

Told the doctor my neighbour made me up some homoeopathic oil for my feet and hands.

"It won't hurt," he said. Then, "As long as it doesn't cost too much. I hate it when it costs a lot." I reassured him that it was a gift. He felt better.

I have the impression he believes it's harmless -- and ineffective. And so far it isn't doing anything, but we'll go through another three weeks of chemo and decide.

I'm still on shots to augment my white blood counts. Told the doctor I still have leftover EPO for my red blood counts. "Save it," he said. "Don't be selling it to any cyclists." Told him I was going to be a cyclist. "Not yet," he said.

He asked me if the doctor in charge of my program in Lyon explained things to me in French or English. "French," I replied. . . pause. . . "Does he speak English?" "He must," said my new doctor.

Live and learn. But I think the doctors prefer to speak French to make sure they don't screw anything up. If I screw up, nothing lost.

Whoops!

Two toenails fell off. Pas grave. I once had them all removed as a result of an infection. They grew back.