This all has to end somewhere, and because
we know where all endings end, I’ll begin to end this one with another
beginning.
Much has happened in these last two week’s
worth of todays:
If we add some forehead-slapping intrigue
to insult, my blood tests confirmed Lyme Disease. When I came home from the
hospital with the news, there was a deer standing by the fake rock under the backyard crab apple tree, and I had a mad flash image that Bambi had it in for me
personally.
I had LD a few years ago. After I’d found
the embedded tick, the telltale classic bulls-eye bruise followed and there
was only a minimal fallout of symptoms. A quick regimen of antibiotics, and it
was gone and gone.
This time around, I never found a tick, but
a red blotch appeared on my mid-back, and when more advanced waylays moved in
(see Day Seventy-Two), everything went on hold until I was restored to all my
normal subnormals.
Two weeks and a course of Doxycyline later,
I’m fairly clear of them, and today we restarted chemo.
It was administered via my new central IV
port, also installed since our last outing. For the record, it lies under the
skin and just ABOVE the wings of my Pegasus (Day Seventy-One).
To calm
any storm in a port, I was heavily sedated, the port was implanted perfectly,
and my IV blood draws, infusions and contrast mediums are now one simple cinch
of a pinch.
One stick. No bruises. No misses. No
errors.
Today we began Docetaxel (why does that
make me feel like a self-experimenting mad Incan scientist?)
The most common side effects are what
happens when you put all the vowels and consonants in the English language together
in a dozen random orders:
--- Stiff rotations, joint rashes, facial
palpitations, irregular inflammations, swollen nausea, hot chills, cold fevers,
shortness of mind, rapid emotions, sleep paralysis, and the tinsmith forgot to
give me a heart.
(See what I did there? Trouble is, at this
point in my cancer road and sky trip, the signs & symptoms are becoming
more mix n’ match.)
My favorite? At the top of the list, says
the Doc, it’s likely that I’ll go skinhead again.
The first time this happened, my hair came
back wavy and dirty grey. This time, I may opt to keep it bald. At least I might
outsmart Bambi from the top up and the back down.
More as we’ve gone, El
