Tastes Gone Missing

I don't like foods that are too salty. Most packaged food overwhelms me with salt. But suddenly, I can't taste salt at all. When a potato chip doesn't taste salty you know something's wrong.

This is a minor detail in the scheme of things, although it does make much of what I eat taste like nothing. I'm sure the phenomenon is explained by temporary chemo damage to my taste buds, or possibly some drug I'm taking.

Worse than the missing salt chord, however, is that my beloved coffee doesn't taste right. I drink it black with no sugar, because I really love the pure taste of coffee. Now, it tastes like a weak version of the brew no matter how strong I make it. Again, I'll live; it's just disappointing.

Chocolate has not changed, and for this I'm very happy.

Black Bandana

Yesterday was a long day at the hospital clinic. The night before, my temperature had slowly crept up to 100.8 and I have to call my doctor at 100.5. After carefully quizzing me over the phone, he said to monitor for spikes and chills, otherwise come to clinic first thing in the morning.

I woke up with a temp of 99.8, lower than the night before. We arrived at the clinic at 9, and after a blood draw, I had a bone marrow biopsy. My temperature at this point was normal, and I thanked my doctor profusely for not bringing me in the night before.

Because there was no room for me in the infusion unit, I had to enter the main hospital as an in-patient. This was actually a good thing because I had my own bed in a private room (my favorite corner room, no less) with nurses I have come to really know over the past two months. We didn't walk out of there until 8 pm, but I found an interesting way to amuse myself. Since my hair was coming out in hanks anyway, I gently pulled almost all of it out, trying to get as much as possible in the garbage pail. I was a little uneasy about leaving an unsightly mess behind, but I guess dried up hair is better than most of the other patient messes they deal with.

Today has been a good day. I haven't been out yet due to the rain, but I had the energy to take care of some administrative details, and that never fails to cheer me. Hey, I'm not totally worthless.

The hand-pulled hair left quite a few tufts and odd stripings behind, so I hauled out the clippers and after carefully sterilizing the blade, finished off the shave with the help of my darling husband. The same darling who then had to de-hair the bathroom because it too needed a shave.

I put on a black bandana, some earrings from Africa, and a smile.

Cute Hairdo Down the Drain

Remember that haircut I gave myself a few days ago? It was all for naught as my hair started to fall out yesterday big time. I have very thick hair, so it could take a while, but baldness here I come.

Apparently, the first round of chemo I had in May was not toxic to hair follicles, but the more recent one was. I have mixed feelings about being bald. People stare at me (not that I get out much); strangers walk up to me and tell me about how they had cancer; I am somewhat vain and prefer to have hair, even though I wear it very short.

On a bright note, Marty and I went over to a friend's house for dinner last night which was a nice treat. I even managed to stay up past my bedtime. The new anti-nausea medicine I'm taking seems to have solved my morning-sickness woes, a big plus.

Take my hair, I don't care. Just let me feel good.

Good Days Bad Days

Tuesday was a really good day. I had lots of energy and even made a list of things to do. I did things off-list as well, like give myself a haircut. Yes, I inexplicably still have hair, lots of it, and I was developing an unsightly mullet. Whack.

I managed to get through the day without taking a nap, although I paid for this later when a zombie took my place at the dinner table, and I was still bugged-eyed well past my bedtime.

Wednesday was a mixed bag. I didn't need any "products" at the clinic, but I found myself paying the piper for Tuesday's overindulgence. Boy, that 3-hour mid-day nap felt good.

What will today hold? It's starting off on the right foot in that I'm not nauseous. Also, there's a chance the sun might come out later today (we haven't seen it in 3 weeks) and I might be able to spend time in my serenity garden.

My goals for the day include keeping my temperature low, destroying evil white blood cells, and rolling all my strength and any sweetness I can muster into one ball.

Sometimes you have to think big.

Freakish Symptoms

By Sunday evening, I'd developed some nasty bruising on my body and worse, several painless "blood blisters" in my mouth. I've experienced plenty of weird symptoms due to low counts, so I was able to take these mouth issues in stride. At least they didn't hurt.

Not surprising, I needed platelets yesterday. My doctor took one look at my mouth and pronounced I had such-and-such. Sorry folks, I have so much cancer-related terminology clogging my brain, I let that one float up into the ether.

Tanked up on platelets, I returned home and promptly fell onto a deep sleep. This was no nap. Then it was bed by 9:30. Low counts equal low energy. Zzzzzzz.

18,000 Platelet Survival Guide

I spent 3 long hours at the clinic today. Since they didn't draw my blood until well after I'd seen my doctor, I didn't feel like waiting around to get my counts to see if I needed any "products."

So we came home, figuring we could always go back if we had to. This gave me the advantage of eating lunch in comfort and taking a nap. Never underestimate the power of a nap.

It seems I wasn't in critical need of platelets or red blood cells, although I will probably haul through most of the platelets I do have by Monday, when I return to the clinic. In the past, I've been down to as low as 3,000 of these blood-clotting agents without showing any symptoms, so I feel confident I'll make it. But to make sure I do, I plan to take the following precautions:

use no knives

brush teeth cautiously with special foam brushes

avoid brawls and falls

temporarily cease exercising except for walking

no yelling (I rarely do)

This should get me through the weekend expending the fewest platelets possible. I have no white cells, but there's little I can do about that except avoid people, wash hands well and stick to my low-microbe diet. No big fat strawberries for me.

Serenity Garden

That's me yesterday afternoon enjoying my serenity garden. It's a small area near our garage that had been overgrown by a tall spruce and a gangly cedar, plus a stray rhododendron and a couple of azaleas. My sons ripped all that out last summer, and then my husband and I added just a few plants in the Fall. For Mothers Day, my husband painted the adirondack chair Mark had made in wood shop four years ago. We found some old paving stones out back and made a little seating area. Then a friend brought over a few additional plants to to fill in (note: grasses), which Mark kindly planted for me.

When I came home from the hospital yesterday the first thing I did was brew a cup of tea and head out to the garden. It really was serene, a nice refuge after spending six days in the hospital assaulted by chemotherapy.

I think I will be spending some time in this garden in the days to come, watching birdlife, reading, healing and just being.