Side Effects and Annoyances

It only took about fifteen minutes for the hiccups to begin. By the time I sat in the car and turned on the ignition, I could feel them coming on. But the good news was they only lasted a few minutes and by the time I had pulled out of the parking structure after my infusion, they were all but gone. Hiccups are an odd addition to my routine over the past month or so, and they really came on strong the week after Round Four, though I had all but forgotten about them since. After returning from the infusion this time, they only popped up a few times, as though to remind me that I shouldn’t be complacent about the effects of the chemotherapy, even though I generally feel just fine on infusion days.

The night before, the steroids had not disrupted my sleep, nor had I begun having to pee every hour — and the night following the infusion started off peacefully enough. Until just after midnight when I began coughing, and decided to proactively move to the couch where I would be a) less disruptive with my cough, should it persist, and b) closer to the bathroom as I now had to go somewhat urgently after awakening myself through the subtle convulsing associated with a cough. While a single medicinal cough drop seemed to do the trick, I did still have to get up to urinate again about an hour later, so the move was probably justified from that perspective. But still, these were at best minor annoyances.

Business as Usual, Not Much Business

My infusion was on a Tuesday. So Wednesday I took the opportunity to run a few errands in the morning. It is a somewhat narrow window I like to grab when I have the chance. Get to the grocery store. Get a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Enjoy the fresh air. Pick up whatever I have promised to collect…

Wednesday isn’t so bad in that regard. I can even still help with dinner, especially if I remembered my anti-nausea medication, which I generally do. Oh, science, you make meals so much better. And I doubt that I would have gained ten pounds during my treatment without the assistance of a little medical advancement. But that is another story. And anyway, by Wednesday afternoon I am not up for much beyond the couch.

Thursdays have gotten better. Maybe it was because this particular one was my daughter’s ninth birthday. Maybe I am just tolerating things better. Perhaps it was some unexpected virtual human interaction from an old friend throwing me some perspective on not being alone in this, Grand Scheme wise. Or it could have been the chance to finally watch Boyhood uninterrupted on the big television. How that didn’t take home the best picture Oscar still confounds me, so I guess I stick to my split vote theory.

Even with all of that, and the meds, and the love and the better mental focus, slightly less acne and even the weird nasal dryness and pain being diminished a bit, there is still always something slightly new. My gag reflex, bad for months, is now set off particularly hard by rancid or heavily perfumed smells. Cleaning the cat box and taking out the kitchen garbage have become their own special trial of breath-holding and patience. (Almost on par with dealing with auto-correct when composing this on a smartphone screen at 2:00 AM.) Still, if I keep a clear pathway to clean air, it isn’t so bad. It is hard to undersell the value of clean air. Even the L.A. variety.

Sleep remains unsurprisingly sporadic. But this, too, has improved. Damn the hiccups, but at least I am sleeping longer between visits to the toilet. And speaking of the toilet, which I try to sleep as close to as possible to minimize my nighttime sojourns, I’ve been noticing again that there is blue spotting where my urine splatters and dries. It’s a weird byproduct of the chemo, I’m guessing, and I had noticed it after the last couple of rounds, too, against the white porcelain of the toilet bowl. At first, I thought that it was some cleaner or something which had not been properly wiped away, or something cosmetic that was being used in the bathroom, but those were easy to write off as possibilities. Especially since I’m often the only one using that bathroom during the day. Whatever it is that is turning blue as it dries, there is no doubt the mystery lies within me.

So I woke up on Friday morning, feeling a bit more like I did not, absolutely did not want to spend the whole day on the couch. I may not have looked like it, or smelled like it, but I certainly thought it would be a good idea to stretch and get some sun. I just wanted to get out of the house.

While I should probably have considered trimming my beard a little, in truth I was just pleased to be out in the light. I know that Friday was supposed to be one of my down days, and Saturday is supposed to follow suit at least into the afternoon before I slowly start to feel back to whatever normal is these days, but I was tired of waiting. For some reason, I had an urge to do laundry. It was probably the smell of my pajamas that I encountered upon waking, but regardless of the impetus I just wanted to do something.

I took a little walk.

Then I took a little drive. I got some bagels for Saturday, assuming I’ll be feeling up for breakfast. I got steaks to cook for dinner, too. It is good on a day like that to make a few plans.

And I had a little lunch.

The moral of the week, if there is one, is this: keep moving forward. Hiccups and quirks and odd twists will always be there. Expectations may be there, too, but they cannot always be counted on, good or bad or otherwise. But goals, even small ones, help to keep the motion going. Sometimes it is all about the inertia. Sometimes it is all about appreciating an unexpectedly good day. And that is pretty much where I am ending it on Friday evening. Early to bed. Tired. But satisfied.