Day 3 of the chemo phase and I think the Domestos is out of my system now...it has swept though my blood stream, organs and bones and done its thang...namely, killing all fast growing and dividing cells. Unfortunately, for me, not just the Colins and Malcoms, but also those normal, non cancerous ones in my bone marrow, mouth, hair and gut.
Thus, next week is the week when Domestos' legacy and the 'lack of cell' side effects hit. My white blood cell count should drop significantly; my gut may react spectacularly; my mouth may get ulcerated; my hair will begin to thin...I am at a much higher risk of infection when I don't have all those little neutrophils et al in my blood stream to rush to a possible virus or bacteria and obliterate it/them like a 70s Space Invaders game. A common cold could kill me. Apparently.
Hurruh. Well, what else can I say? Worst case scenario woman is back...and anything better than pain and death is a bonus, right? The week after, I should begin to make my white blood cells again, if my bone marrow plays nicely, and I should feel a lot better. Just in time for Fight Club to start all over again and be hit with more Domestos...
...I imagine it gets exhausting, this constant 'cycle' of chemotherapy and the side effects. And, of course, you feel worse and worse as you go through each bit. That's why I am so grateful to come though this first part relatively unscathed; I can keep my chin up and have a little more energy than those poor buggers who suffer terrible with nausea and vomiting, constipation and the runs in the first stage.
...it feels like being in prison and marking off each bit of the sentence with a big cross. One down, seven to go kinda thing. Not sure if I need that immediate imagery, but I get it in my head. Kind of...I like numbers, I like to think 'this time yesterday/tomorrow' and stuff. I like to chart the passing of time in such a manner...I find it soothing.
But I am not a planner. Never have been and never will be. For someone who is a little bit of a control freak, you would imagine me to have the attitude of an army drill instructor. But I don't. If I have to make plans, they are well organised, but I have never felt the need to be that controlled. I am a 'chuck it in the suitcase the morning of my flight' woman. As long as I have a credit card and my passport, then I will be fine. I don't have a pension or a mortgage. I have never wanted anything to stop me moving on. I don't have lots of 'stuff'...if you can't get it all into the back of a Transit van in a few hours and be out of the country by the end of the day, you have too much stuff!
Strangely, this attitude seems to be helping me with all of this. Take it on the chin and roll with the punches as and when they come...and if the fucker misses, great!
Quote of the day: "I have developed a new philosophy; just dread one day at a time" Charlie Brown
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