Saturday, 11 October 2014

60. Tired

The jury is still out. Is Docetaxel better or worse than the previous chemo cocktail?

I'm giving it serious brownie points for not causing quite as much nausea. Apart from the occasional retch, at least that particular nasty foe seems under control. Saves on the pills, too. Only one type of anti-sickness this time, instead of four. 

But boy, the tiredness.

This is something else, and it's already wearing thin. The first two days were fine, sort of. Being ill and unavailable was in the diary. The older ones had their tea-making instructions; the youngest was farmed out to her cousins. By now, we are prepared.

Utter exhaustion in week 3 of the chemo cycle will have me in tears of frustration, if past experience is anything to go by. But during those first few days, I didn't mind being tired if that's as far as the side effects went.

Three days later, and I'm not so sure. I have spent most of the time in bed and seem unable to cope with anything that requires the slightest effort. Talking, reading, watching TV, finding lost Scouts uniforms. (Especially finding lost Scouts uniforms.)

Today the bone ache is creeping up on me. I thought I'd do the short five minute walk to the shops, just to keep moving (it can't be good to just lie in bed, seizing up), but I had to turn back before I got halfway down the street, because my chest felt so tight I couldn't breathe. My bowels are loosening. I keep breaking out in a hot flush, leaving me with a cold sweaty bare scalp which feels, quite frankly, bizarre.

It would be rather nice to get the diary out and mark the date when this will all pass.

Will there be a Suddenly, I feel much better moment? I hope so. In the meantime, I'm in hiding. 

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