I looked at my feet this morning and realized that they look like they did pre-chemo. Which makes sense because in the past two weeks — since the ham feet crisis — I’ve lost 19 pounds of water from my legs. Between the extra vacation (the week my chemo was cancelled), the extra steroids, and the extra peeing that I’ve been doing, I’m feeling pretty good! Even the dreaded scrounge of the red rash seems to be diminished.
Yesterday, the Oncologist decided I would continue on and complete the last two cycles of Gemma. This is fine with me, because even though Gemma is a heartless bitch who kills indiscriminately, she is still the accepted best choice for my particular cancer battle. And I have my new tools and knowledge to use to try to mitigate her savagery.
We’re having a beautiful day today with lots of sun and no rain for a change. Partying at the Chemo Cafe with me today is my good pal, Sharon. Lunch was at my favorite tavern, Doubleday’s (as per my normal chemo brain, I forgot to take photos of the food). Best burgers in town!
Sharon is a farmer. She comes from a family of farmers. We’ve been talking about hay. While she does duty here with me, someone mowing hay for her. And we’re sending out lots of positive energy that the rain holds off until the weekend, because it takes four days to cut, dry, turn, and bail hay successfully. The things you can learn while getting poison pumped into your body at the Chemo Cafe!
Im not only hoping for happy hay results. I’m hoping that the week of the ham feet was my last absolute low point. I’m hoping that my side effect symptoms will be milder this week because of the help I’ll get from the steroids and lasix. I’m hoping that next week — chemo vacation week — I’ll be feeling well enough to work out in my garden pulling weeds (never gonna take that simple pleasure for granted ever again). And I’m hoping that these last two cycles of treatment — the next eight weeks — goes quickly and relatively fuss-free. No whining. No ham feet.
I’ve got lots of hopes.