The Fall

After the two days of terminal nausea, I've just been tired. Flattened. Steam-rollered. Crevée. (Means flattened in French and, for some reason that I cannot fathom, is a Bad Word.) Mostly, after I've managed to get dressed, I lie on the sofa and read. And sleep.

Two days ago, I wondered why I've been using Fungizone as a mouthwash every night (and then, according to instructions, swallowing it), so I stopped. Yesterday, mouth ulcers returned.

I'm getting something for my white blood cells, maybe next month I should ask for something for my red cells.

And I asked about jogging! Ha ha ha!

At least if I'm telling you I feel rotten, you should believe me when I tell you I don't.

Apologies to all I owe e-mails.

Daily Journal - Fourth Session

. . .which is here, with the others, for comparison purposes.

Fourth Chemo

Dr. Litor is back. Hooray!

She agreed with my GP. I had an intestinal problem last week. Not a blockage, but not enough throughput. Or something like that.

And she told me to forget the tons of paracetamol and just take the pred for the joint pains. (Meanwhile, I had the prescription refilled and I have a lifetime supply of paracetamol. I guess the city pharmacist didn't read the "5 days" part.)

And I don't have to peel my fruit. I can eat it the way I always eat it.

And I can do anything I feel like, including jogging. I know I can no longer get around my 1.7 km "track" (just over a mile) but walk and run will do it. I have to do something before I fall apart.

And I can go to Spain as long as I have a doctor available. I figure John's, my brother-in-law's, oncologist will take me in, if necessary.

And -- ready? -- My CA-125 is down to 230!!

I'm eating today, again, too.

Two more chemo sessions, a scan, surgery a month after the last chemo, if ready, then more chemo. I have a terrible feeling this could interfere with my skiing this year.

Pride Goeth Before the Fall. . .

. . . or: Never brag about how sturdy you are.

I'm recovering from terminal nausea. I've been sipping cokes for 2 days, but I can't even swallow tea. At least I'm finally out of bed.

My three-hour drip was concluded about 40 minutes early. Could that do it? Or could it have been my roommate who says she suffers nausea and vomiting (I skipped that part) every time she has a treatment? That would make me not only not sturdy, but weak-minded, too.

Where's My Keeper?

As we were leaving the house at 7:15 this morning, I took one more look at my appointment card. After a short discussion of the date, I noticed that my chemo session is tomorrow. It doesn't bear thinking about if we'd already driven the hour and a half.

Sigh.

Volunteers?

Party Hat

As the festive season approacheth, our friends in Spain, Sheila and Bob, have sent me a hat to wear for the celebrations. Is this a great hat or is this a great hat?
It's so great, I should have changed my clothes first.

Details

We hope to have the house by the end of the year. There has been a lot of legal stuff to clear because it had a lien on it. Actually, it all cleared up pretty fast. Now we have to put a rocket under the notaire and sign some papers.

We're not really sealing the attic. We're going to clean it up, with the help of Saturday Kids, and ignore it. A quick look among the filth says there will be careful triage required. I saw letters and receipts dated around 1900 and there is a pile of stuff.

I'll get the kids to do most of it, while I read and sort.

The kids, by the way, are two brother/sister pairs who lived next door to us in the old house; two 8 year olds and two 13 year olds. They still come around borrowing tools, bicycles, anything they need -- our adoptees.