Here's the only picture of me in the hospital that survived. By this point I had my Oxygen out, and maybe even my IV out, so I was thoroughly less pathetic than I had been. The doll on my chest was Grazelda the Good.
This is today's new gadget that will hang out of my arm for the next 3 months. It's called a PICC line and is a catheter that goes straight into my vein and almost all the way to my heart. Wild, eh? It's a little tender right now, but it means that I don't have to get stuck with a needle anymore. They can hook me up for chemo, and even draw blood through it: no more pokes! Plus, I get to wear that excellent fish-net-looking sock contraption to keep everything from flopping around.
Today was probably the roughest day yet. I had a little bit of nausea while I was at therapy, so after ginger didn't quite cut it, they put me on another anti-nausea drug, which wiped me out again (I'd already had my Benadryl Drip Trip), and I took another much-needed nap when I got home.
As to the pudgy sausage fingers . . . according to the scale at the doctor office, I've gained 10 pounds in 3 days. And I'm pretty sure it's all fluid retention, which the doc assures me is actually good, helps my kidneys avoid stress, and flush out the chemo as it needs to go. In fact, if I keep doing well, I may end up going in every Monday (even on my off weeks) to get more of the one kind of drug.
But I managed to eat a substantial and delicious supper brought by friends from church and have not had any more nausea at home.
Tomorrow my Dad flies in. It will sure be good to see him.
That's the news from Grazelda-Land, where short short hair is in, big big tumors are out, and naps are the way of the future.
As to the pudgy sausage fingers . . . according to the scale at the doctor office, I've gained 10 pounds in 3 days. And I'm pretty sure it's all fluid retention, which the doc assures me is actually good, helps my kidneys avoid stress, and flush out the chemo as it needs to go. In fact, if I keep doing well, I may end up going in every Monday (even on my off weeks) to get more of the one kind of drug.
But I managed to eat a substantial and delicious supper brought by friends from church and have not had any more nausea at home.
Tomorrow my Dad flies in. It will sure be good to see him.
That's the news from Grazelda-Land, where short short hair is in, big big tumors are out, and naps are the way of the future.
Margaret, I'm so sorry to see you this way. It's so unfair & so not right. I wish it were me and not you. You feel like a soulmate, and I imagine you feel like that to everyone you know. It's good to read your humor and know that the real Margaret is still there. Can't imagine how your mom must feel if this is the way I feel. Please enjoy your milkshakes, your mom & your dad, and whatever else you wish in whatever order you wish. Dang, I wish your doll was still with you. She looks & sounded so cute. Perhaps you can get another one if you want one.
ReplyDeleteSo much love and thoughts and prayers,
Debbie Miller
Margaret,
ReplyDeleteThe short short hair rocks on you! Game plan: keep it for a while, lose it for a while, grow it out for a while, and then never let it grow long again (too much work). Plus, brushes aren't necessary--I haven't used one in years. :)
Melanie K.
Just rereading some posts on here & want to join the no-brush clan ... they're against my religion ... if I wash my hair first thing in the a.m. (which I usually don't 'cause I wash it at night), all I have to do is run my hand through my hair & it looks great, better than wish a brush ... so I vote for wash & wear do's any day ... Margaret, it you lose your hair, you won't even need to wash it till it grows back ... hope that's some minor source of comfort, although if I were you, I'd rather not have that comfort.
ReplyDeleteTake care!