Chemo Day 7. The oral thrush came back. Painful, white wall-to-wall carpeting for my mouth and throat. Got on top of the medication much faster this time, so hopefully it will be gone soon.
I’m doing it! I’m proceeding down the chemo path. I think this is basically happening according to plan. The way it makes my body feel is entirely different from anything else I’ve ever felt. I keep checking it against what happened last time, what the nurse triage line tells me, and filling in with the assumption that if what I’m feeling could logically be explained by being repeatedly poisoned, it’s probably okay.
A lot of it could also be explained if I was dying, right now.
I was prepared for my hair to fall out. I wasn’t prepared for feeling so entirely sick when I was pulling it out in handfuls. Not because I was sad about losing my hair, but in that moment, it was a sickening feeling of “This isn’t right.” This doesn’t happen to well and healthy people. This is not a sign of vigor. It’s like cutting your hand in the kitchen; not a big deal until you can see your tendons. THAT’S bad.
What I feel like right now, to varying degrees from minute to minute, isn’t right. The last chemo round, I didn’t realize I’d become septic because I just assumed that all of it was chemo-related bullshit. I always thought I’d recognize if things took a real bad turn. I kind of missed it in the past weeks. I managed to get myself heroically saved from death once before, a long time ago. Have I lost my ability to recognize the signs?
But then how do I keep moving forward when I’m possibly dying? The trick is adjusting the dose of Ativan so I’m not constantly worrying that every breath could be my last, while not drugging myself into an oblivion blind to real problems. I don’t have the right balance yet.
I go to sleep to a little voice whispering, “This is what organ failure feels like...goodnight!”