Roadkill. That's what I feel like. Roadkill. Hit dead-on by a truck, lying on the side of the road.
Same treatment as the first 3, but the effects are cumulatively worse.
No pain. Just, well, dead. Poisoned. Severely Poisoned.
Nothing abnormal for this, I'd guess I'm getting off easier, or much easier than many, most. I have such a tough body.
For 54 hours straight I've done almost nothing but lie in bed, asleep 80% of the time, dozing, in a daze, 20% of the time. Near zero appetite. An hour here or there to do blog maintenance, news review and posting. Sometimes a light meal.
Within the first day, a huge diarrhetic effect - peeing gallons. Now, it just hurts like blazes for the first few seconds as the flow starts, deep inside at whatever the shut-off valve is. Again, typical, just worse. These severe symptoms will pass in another day or so.
I'm pretty sure the idea of this chemo is - because cancer runs at a much higher metabolism than other tissue - try and fill the body with enough poison that it kills cancer, but doesn't quite kill too much healthy tissue at the same time.
My guess is that some life will return by Tuesday.
Week from tomorrow, Monday, I go to GUH for intensive scans.
Thursday Sept 12 at 1pm I meet with my oncologist, to learn the results, and prognosis. A 5th chemo is scheduled, tentatively, after that meeting, on the chance that the tumors have been shrinking, and she wants, my Doc He, she wants to shrink them a bit more before surgery. Or, if the tumors have not shrunk, or if they've grown, as they do sometimes on chemo, well, then treatment is done, and the clock starts ticking.
I find it upsetting to be so debilitated. I also am reminded at the extraordinary healing powers that my body may have. Near miraculous. Near Miraculous.
I don't believe in the Divinity, Sentient God, stuff. Never have. Never will. But there are times when it 'seems like' I'm wrong.
About 5 years ago when I was doing 2 of the 4 shifts per day at the White House vigil I had a wonderful friend, Julie, about my age, MS. She was retired from a few places, so she had an income, and was very, very kind to me. She gave me one of her bikes to use on my 4x / day treks to the WH. It was very simple, extremely light weight, very unstable. One day, mid day, I was headed to the WH at the rather complex Thomas Circle, speeding on my way, I heard a car horn, there was Julie waving and smiling. Well, I couldn't resist, turned my head toward her, raised one hand from the handle-bars in a big hello... Next think I knew I was on the pavement, having fallen at speed, full weight, rib first onto the point of the straight handle-bar.
It was paralyzing pain. I was immobilized, sitting on the pavement, head sagging down, paralyzed. Well, of course poor Julie left her car in the street, was at my side. I said nothing, looked not at her. Others offered to call an ambulance. I think I got as far as squeezing her hand in reassurance, and waving my hand, 'no,' about the ambulance.
I was responding to the most odd, but clear 'Call,' "just sit here. I'll heal you. Just sit here." I am near certain my rib was broken. It must have been. I sat motionless for, well, 15 minutes or so. Rode away after that. Much pain, but no hospital, no treatment, self-healed.
I have some of that same experience now - a sense of massive mobilization by all the cells in my body to deal with this saying, "Trust us. Just rest. Trust us."
As I announced on Thursday night, I've not been on email or FB. Too fuzzy headed, too week for that.
