This week has been pretty hellish at a physical layer. Unsurprising, since it’s the post-processing of my twelfth chemo session. Fatigue has been horrendous.
I’m not sure I haven’t developed a GI bug this week, though. Either than or Shedding Day has been five days long and counting. This is my most vulnerable point for immunocompromisation, though in fairness, my immune system seems to have overperformed throughout the chemo cycle. My guts have sounded like a brewery these last few days. Sometimes I can literally hear liquid flowing for a while, as if someone had turned on the garden house. Not to mention the rhythm section working the tympani and whatnot down there. Of chemo farts the less said the better, but trust me, bad air has been a regular feature as well. And the output has been very high in liquids and relatively scant in solids. Loose stool is pretty much like breathing for me these days, but firehose stuff isn’t normal, even on chemo. To top it all off, there was blood yesterday, which is a huge red flag (pardon the expression) if it recurs.
All of which amounts to an enormous degree of discomfort, some significant social indignity, and a general sense of physical misery which folds right into the horrendous fatigue.
I said last night to
This week should be the bottom. If I can get the GI in line and stay rested, I figure on being flat next week with some noticeable uptick by the time of JayCon, then increasing improvements. Excepting the peripheral neuropathy, I’ll be fine, if still a bit fatigued, by September. And every day, life will go on.
I can see the light, and by damn, I’m going into it.