So other than my morning walk and a couple of minor errands, I got pretty much nothing done. Especially given how exhausted I was when I got home. (Mother of the Child drove both ways.)
This is rather my own fault, because I'd taken an extended walk both Saturday morning (up and down Mount Tabor, a small, non-snow-capped volcano in the middle of Portland's SE side) and Sunday morning through various neighborhoods. I burned my own damned spoons, thank you very much.
The lower GI rebellions of Saturday weren't so bad Sunday, but by the time we got to the playing field in Hood River, I'd become stupidly hungry. Having brought only snacks with me, this was inconvenient. So I borrowed Mother of the Child's keys and drove her car into town looking for food. As I drove, I got hit with another round of intestinal cramps so intensely painful I was screaming and crying in the car, searching for a fast food restaurant or any place else with an easily accessible public restroom.
That was profoundly unpleasant, and put a certain tenor on the rest of the day.
Post-game, the girls had their end-of-season party in a pizza joint out there. I wasn't sure I'd have the energy to attend, but I did make it, and I'm glad I was able to do so. Came back and pretty much collapsed.
Now I've got a four-day work week, with chemo session two on Friday. I confess to dreading it. The vomiting and days-long nausea of the first session are really weighing on me. I'll discuss this with the oncologist, of course, and ask for both advice and for stronger anti-nausea drugs. On the plus side, I seem to be less mentally vague on FOLFIRI than I was on FOLFOX. The oxaliplatin of FOLFOX blew my brain out as soon as it hit my veins. The irinotecan of FOLFIRI flattens me badly and upsets my GI more, but it does less to my brain.
For now, the day. As ever.
Photo © 2011, Joseph E. Lake, Jr.
This work by Joseph E. Lake, Jr. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.