Another bad weekend is now behind us. In its wake are eight pounds that did not think they needed to stick around any longer. I reckon I was on the binge and purge diet… heavy on the purge side that is. On Saturday, the purges were making down payments on binges I had not even gone through on yet. The last purge was early Sunday morning. I was in tears (serious weenie-boy status here) when I told my Wendy,
“I can’t keep doing this anymore,” meaning I cannot continue with the ongoing purge and has slunk down to the drive heave level.
She called called Dr. Bryson, the captain of the good ship Chemo. He did some research, contacted the pharm, then called my Wendy back with all the info. One trip to the pharm yielded a new slew of meds to keep the purge at bay. They seem to work. No purge for the rest of the day… plus I actually slept throughout the day.
I slept for good stretches of the night too. Once, I woke up because of a dry mouth and instead of the purge. This is actually a step up, and it is the reason this post is a little late in going up.
We boarded the good ship Chemo this morning to get my hydration restored. The vitals say I am down to 177 pounds. I see the weight loss in my calf muscles. The skin is loose in that area.
Surviving the side effects of using radiation to carpet bomb the affected area is the challenge of this endeavor. We will decide what course to take with radiation tomorrow. I want to finish this as soon as possible but must be able to keep the side effects in check well enough to get me through the whole thing without another break.
Every break prolongs the inevitable.