I’ve been writing these particular entries the day after, ideally to make them more readable. I have a dread fear of this blog turning into some mangled Ulysses-esque stream of consciousness thing that nobody will understand, not even me. Why? Because in real time, right now, it’s 6:30 P.M. on the third day after chemo – and I’ve got very little to say, because chemo brain is a real thing and it’s hitting me hard.
Yesterday, Day 2, is a blur. Today, Day 3, is just plain missing. I thought I wouldn’t sleep at all last night. Instead, I didn’t wake up properly till about 3:30 P.M. Don’t forget, either, that it’s January in New England: at that point in the day, the light is already waning. I napped the sun away and never got out of my sleep shirt.
Today I folded some laundry, I recharged my electric toothbrush, I read a little bit of a lightweight novel, and I wrote this entry. That’s about it. The harsh body aches that tormented me last time around are not so constant. There’s tingling and numbness in my fingers and forearms but it’s not unbearable. Furthermore, if I stay on top of the Compazine and eat carefully, the nausea is manageable, too.
I’m taking this weird mental fog and embracing it with both arms. To translate: I’m going to eat as much protein for dinner as I can manage, I’m going to gulp down some B vitamins, and – wait for it – go to bed. Probably before 9 P.M. If tomorrow goes the same way, I will slap an ‘ibid’ on Day 4’s entry and call it good (unless I’m clear-headed enough to edit THIS entry, in which case, I’ll do that).
medicinal sausage 