I’ve begun writing posts for this blog a number of times during the past few days, giving up each time after admitting failure. Today, regardless of my judgment of the quality (or lack thereof) of what I write, I will post something, if for no reason other than proof of life.
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In the thirteen years since I began writing in this blog, tentacles of my past life occasionally have reached through time to wrap around me for a while. Several months ago, a high-school acquaintance who had stumbled upon one of my posts left a comment for me. He and I chatted by way of email for a short while, but that connection did not catch on. A year or two earlier, a woman with whom I had worked in my first association job inquired through a comment whether I was who she thought I was; I was. Our limited chat via email lasted only a short time, as well, disappearing into fading memories. For a few years, a woman with whom I had worked more recently started following my blog; until she died, we enjoyed conversations, both in the comment section and by email. The most recent connection began when a woman with whom I was close for several years came upon my blog. Though she does not follow my posts, we occasionally converse via email. As I think back on these interactions, I realize my characterization of them as “tentacles” that “wrap around me” is grossly misleading overstatement. I can legitimately classify only one of them as a truly powerful connection to the past. I think I must have a tendency to sever weaker connections that are unlikely to survive distance and time intact.
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Until I was in the midst of a conversation with my oncologist yesterday morning, I had not given much attention to the agenda for the visit with her. I had assumed it would be a short follow-up of no consequence. She reviewed some of my most recent lab results, noting some of the numbers were, as usual, significantly out of the “normal” range. Though most “abnormal” numbers are not serious…just bear watching…some need to be watched more closely and addressed accordingly. The decline in my weight, always a concern, was more top-of-mind to her yesterday morning. Another issue: the effects of chemotherapy on my bones, as indicated by lab tests, led her to prescribe an injection to deal with the effects. Finally (but not really…there was plenty more), hemoglobin levels were significantly lower than they should be, so she wanted me to get a blood transfusion as part of plan to respond to the decline. As a consequence, I drove to Hot Springs, where I was given a blood transfusion—one-unit. My oncology clinic visit, which otherwise would have ended by around 10 a.m., dragged on until 2:15 p.m.; another day claimed in the war on cancer.
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Some people in my sphere have warned me that I am starving myself. Until recently, I dismissed the warnings as hyperbole; just exaggerated expressions of concern. I readily acknowledge that I am not eating as much as I should, but I’ve been of the opinion that my disinterest in food is simply a temporary side-effect of chemo that will disappear when I no longer need chemo. That opinion, though, is flawed on two levels. First, the evidence suggests otherwise: I have noticed a direct and obvious correlation between my reduced intake of food and my energy levels. When I go for several days with little or no food, I become quite weak and lethargic. Second, the idea that there will come a time when I no longer need chemo seems to be closer to a fantasy than to reality, in which case the side-effect will not evaporate. During the visit with my oncologist, she expressed concern that I had lost more weight since my last appointment; I weighed just over 148 pounds, the least I’ve weighed since long before I first started seeing her. It is far easier to decide to overcome the bad habit of going without food than it is to convert that decision into action. Somehow, though, I need to do it. Otherwise, as mi novia often warns me, I may wind up in the hospital again to try to recover from the effects of unintentional starvation.
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The days and nights continue to demonstrate that they—not I—have the power. They shuffle me around as if I were one of an unmatched pair of socks…stuffed in an empty drawer, awaiting the other sock to be found. The problem, of course, is that the missing sock might have been left in a hotel room in Houston or taken by gypsies who rummaged through my luggage while my bags sat unguarded on the tarmac during a brief layover in Bucharest. Except I’ve never been to Bucharest. So I suppose I should offer my apologies for insulting gypsies.
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Nothing else worth recording remains in my fingers. Nothing worth recording was there from the start, but that never stops me. Except when it does.
Loss of appetite can be a side effect of chemo, but – and you probably already know this – it is often a result of the metabolic aspects of cancer. Regardless of the cause, it is important to eat to keep up strength and energy, but I also realize how difficult that can be. All I can suggest is the usual – often it’s easier to eat small amounts often, rather than to try to eat a large meal. When you eat, try to aim for food with high protein and more calories and avoid empty-calorie or foods that don’t provide many calories or energy. And, of course, try to down several Boosts (or similar) each day in addition to whatever food you can manage to eat. It’s frustrating though – for the person, and for the people around them who want to see them eating more.