Apologies for not updating in a few days; some of you may have seen that this second round of chemotherapy is hitting me harder than the first. I was warned that it might but, of course, obstinately refused to believe it.
Even with the nurses telling me that my brand of chemo is a particularly tough one, I couldn’t imagine letting it affect me for more than a couple of hours at a time. ‘Nah‘, I thought smugly, ‘I’ll be the exception that proves the rule‘.
So, let’s start with a game of ‘what’s currently happening to Ceri’s body’, shall we? I even have some photos for you.
- The rash: this little beauty popped up all over my body on Wednesday (day 2 round 2) and is definitely adding a certain je ne sais quoi to that ‘ethereal plague creature’ vibe I’m currently rocking. It was the first sign that I might be having an allergic reaction to one of my chemo chemicals. I was pumped full of IV Pirotin and Hydrocortisone, and then chemo continued as normal until…
- The breathing (or lack of it): Ever been winded by something and spent a few desperate moments trying to get adequate oxygen back into your body to function enough to swear profusely? Imagine that at a low level, but all the time. That’s what I’ve been dealing with for the last couple of days. After a trip to A&E yesterday (officially losing its appeal as an exciting way to spend the day) it turns out that I have a touch of pneumonia in one lung, so I was sent home with some more antibiotics.
- The Puffiness: Something in my chemo routine is making my face puff up every morning. No, it’s not the worst thing I could be dealing with, but like c’mon, everyone knows you don’t go for the face. Uncool. So swollen are my eyes that, by the time they’ve returned to normal, my eyelids are genuinely bruised. Still, guess I’m saving on eyeshadow?
4. Fatigue: I’m a hardcore napper at the best of times, but this is something totally new. After my third day of chemo (Thursday afternoon) it was all I could do to get myself upstairs and into bed, where I stayed until 2pm the next day and only moved because I had to be taken to A&E because ‘you can’t breathe, Ceri‘. Rude. Just five more hours?
So, to sum up my dear reader, I’m currently a bald, blotchy, breathless, swollen lump that refuses to budge from bed unless it’s a medical emergency, and will snarl at you with what little oxygen I can muster should you disturb me.
I know, I know, how can one human being be so damn attractive? I ask myself that very question every day.
Thankfully I have a break from infusion chemotherapy until Tuesday now, so I’m going to spend some time focusing on looking after this poor body and mind of mine.