Third infusion was yesterday and it went smoothly. I hummed along working on a Photoshop job throughout most of it – time flew. I have been doing a lot of that, maybe too much, this last week: pushing through the sicker aspects of my days into chores, work, and ye olde beloved volunteer gig of helping produce the school play. Last weekend, when I was really not yet at full capacity, I powered through to finish Act 2 of the play (In case you care, it’s a whole mess of Muppet stuff called “Rainbow Connection.” Tons of fun.) And each day this week I treated as more normal, which seemed to catch up with me more this round. Thursday I felt awful after food and drink at trivia Wednesday night, then went to the cast call for the play Thursday afternoon (which is at best extremely tiring), I was wiped out come Friday. Today, I made it to noon before I had to lie down: 90 minute nap interrupted by the doorbell and I’m still fuzzy and tired. Sigh.
I had a good doctor visit before the infusion yesterday. Dr Anderson had to ask where the tumor is supposed to be, or rather where it used to be — he couldn’t feel anything. He also confirmed that the neuropathy I’m feeling is not likely to be the permanent kind, thank goodness. And he assured me that the strange breakouts I was experiencing on my scalp is a known issue they just haven’t quite figured out how to manage, basically it’s irritated hair follicles. 16 years ago as soon as my hair started to fall out, John shaved me down to skin with an actual razor. This time we used clippers to go down to stubble, that was probably the problem, shouldn’t leave little hairs behind in follicles that are expelling toxins. Once the breakouts started I couldn’t put a razor to inflamed skin, so I had to leave it alone and it just kept going. In the meantime I saw a tip on a bulletin board that lint brushes help take the rest off, so I’m been rolling my little masking tape brush on the scalp occasionally. I have many more bald patches, and still some stubborn stubble, but I’m hopeful that it won’t get that bad again. It was hard to get comfortable on my pillow.
I’m finding myself in a strange spot emotionally as I struggle between Staying in the Moment and wanting to fast forward, curl up in a ball and go to sleep until mid-November. I don’t like the feeling, I don’t want to miss out on anything, I don’t like being checked out. I want to be the zen mama I strive for, who can take everything one minute at a time and go with the flow, to be cliché about it. That’s who I really want to be, not Rip Van Winkle.
I want to celebrate being half way done, but I don’t feel there until after the nadir, once the worst symptoms subside and I can stay out of bed for an entire day. Another 9 days or so. Then I’m Halfway Home.