So, to review-- my immune system was supposed to hit its weakest point between weeks 6 to 8. This is week 9, and, frankly, week 9 sucks more than week 6, 7, or 8. I'm not sleepy, but my body feels like it's filled with sand. I'm having trouble filling my lungs with air. I'm noticing lots and lots of bruises, but I don't remember injuring myself. And the bruises are in strange places, like inside my knee. I am bleeding a lot. All ten fingers are covered with multiple paper cuts and each cut was a gusher. And each cut seems to catch me by surprise: usually when I'm meeting a new person in a professional capacity far away from any kind of stop bleeding supplies. I've been trying to ball up my fists to nonchalantly stop the bleeding, leaving bloody fingerprints on the bottom of my palms. I wouldn't want to shake my hand.
I think the issue is that I've had a "everthing will be better if I can just make it through week 8" mantra since the Zevalin injection. Now, I'm on week 9 and I think I've wasted all my andrenoline on the last 8 weeks.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
ode to shampoo
Last Wednesday, I hit week 6. During weeks 6 through 8 after the Zevalin injection, my immune system is supposed to hit its lowest point. The good news: I've hit bottom! Things can only get better from here out. This is mile 16 of my marathon, and, hey, once you've been running for 16 miles, what's a measly 10 and change more?
How am I feeling, you ask? I've been pretty worn out. My daughter's bedtime is 8 p.m. Um, in theory Evangeline's bedtime is 8 p.m. After multiple requests for water, Purple Bunny, Pooh Bear, White Blanket, a story, one more story, a kiss, a hug, a kiss from Daddy ("no Mommy"), a hug from Mommy ("no Daddy"), etc., the time is usually closer to 9. About midway through our bedtime negotiations, Mommy falls asleep. I do have more energy during the beginning of the week, however, I can't seem to make it through Thursdays without at least 1 nap.
Regarding pain, I am feeling strange pinches underneath my ribs. They're pretty consistent throughout the day, but also easily ignored.
More disturbing, at least for me, I haven't had a period since November. I've been looking forward to being pregnant again, to an infant (or 2) and to Evangeline getting siblings (she'd be a great big sister). Daydreaming about the little ones yet to come has gotten me through chemo sessions and side effects. Now it's looking like treatment is taking more than just my hair; it's taking the future I hoped for.
Speaking of hair-- isn't it great having some?! No joke-- currently I look like a giant Q-tip. I'm sporting an uneven layer of spiky in places, curly in others 'fro. It's not pretty, but requires shampoo, and, really, is there anything better than shampoo? Shampoo smells wonderful. Better than perfume. Better than food. It's the comforting just-a-little-more-than-clean scent. And the act of shampooing is ssssoooooooo soothing. Squish, squish, foam; the lather feels good in your hair and makes your hair feel good in your hands.
In sadder news, my already small family is taking a hit. Our marriage may not make it to the end of my Zevalin treatment. I'm hoping I hit bottom on that front as well.
How am I feeling, you ask? I've been pretty worn out. My daughter's bedtime is 8 p.m. Um, in theory Evangeline's bedtime is 8 p.m. After multiple requests for water, Purple Bunny, Pooh Bear, White Blanket, a story, one more story, a kiss, a hug, a kiss from Daddy ("no Mommy"), a hug from Mommy ("no Daddy"), etc., the time is usually closer to 9. About midway through our bedtime negotiations, Mommy falls asleep. I do have more energy during the beginning of the week, however, I can't seem to make it through Thursdays without at least 1 nap.
Regarding pain, I am feeling strange pinches underneath my ribs. They're pretty consistent throughout the day, but also easily ignored.
More disturbing, at least for me, I haven't had a period since November. I've been looking forward to being pregnant again, to an infant (or 2) and to Evangeline getting siblings (she'd be a great big sister). Daydreaming about the little ones yet to come has gotten me through chemo sessions and side effects. Now it's looking like treatment is taking more than just my hair; it's taking the future I hoped for.
Speaking of hair-- isn't it great having some?! No joke-- currently I look like a giant Q-tip. I'm sporting an uneven layer of spiky in places, curly in others 'fro. It's not pretty, but requires shampoo, and, really, is there anything better than shampoo? Shampoo smells wonderful. Better than perfume. Better than food. It's the comforting just-a-little-more-than-clean scent. And the act of shampooing is ssssoooooooo soothing. Squish, squish, foam; the lather feels good in your hair and makes your hair feel good in your hands.
In sadder news, my already small family is taking a hit. Our marriage may not make it to the end of my Zevalin treatment. I'm hoping I hit bottom on that front as well.
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