Days 4 through 6 are guaranteed to be miserable. My energy is sapped. My strength is good enough to go between my bed and the couch, or the couch to the car. My appetite is a joke.
Usually, nothing much happens. I watch an absurd amount of TV and YouTube. I remind myself (and so does Oscar) to eat at least a little at a time and drink as much as I can. Edibles again make that part easier. I nap. A lot. Only the pug and cat outdo me in that department. The cat shows off how much better he sleeps under blankets than me.
We had two Thanksgiving dinners, one with Oscar’s family and the other with mine. I could eat a full plate each night only because I used an edible. Edibles also help my mood. I hated being unable to do much more than sit in one spot. The depression associated with it was kept at bay so I could simply enjoy being there in the first place.
Unfortunately, this is also the weekend the boys stay with us. They are amazingly understanding for their age and help keep the apartment clean. I wish they could see me on the opposite weekend when I’m closer to normal. I promise I don’t use them for child labor. They do make the weekend easier in many other ways, and I think they give Oscar a boost.
Surviving the three-day boss fight unlocks an achievement for each round of chemo. However, it seems like after four rounds I triggered New Game Plus and the difficulty increases. Sunday used to be when my stats increased from 5% to 60%, and Monday buffed me to at least 90%. I’m starting round 6 tomorrow. I didn’t feel at 60% until this past Tuesday. I have two factors that might be the culprits.
It’s now winter in Northern Utah. I know it’s not the winter solstice according to the calendar. Here it starts once you see the face in Mt. Ben Lomond.
Chemo in fall came with the option of going outside and doing things with family, or simply walking around. Now I have to limit how long I stay out. I feel like the little brother in “A Christmas Story” when I’m covered in layers of clothing. An invitation to an outdoor event must come with a snowsuit, a heated motorcycle helmet, and the option to trade for a future date of my choice. I can barely tolerate winter on a normal day. Chemo makes me double down on borderline hibernation.
Not going outside means no higher impact physical activities which means I don’t sweat out the chemo. (Not sure if that’s how it works, but it’s a theory.) It takes more time for the chemo to leave my body which means I feel the side effects longer. I do have a gym membership, but gym clothing requires even more layers to survive the trip there and back without shocks from the cold.
Factor two: it’s simply the cumulative effects from previous rounds. My body has to work a little harder each round to recover. I’ve just noticed the difference this time.
I’ve found a solution for factor one. I already have a desk with an adjustable height. I’ve ordered a small treadmill that can easily fit under my bed desk. I can pull up a movie on my laptop and spend 30 minutes on the treadmill without worrying about the weather. I hope this covers not only factor one but also helps me reduce the cumulative effects in factor two.
I’m almost at the halfway mark. This part of chemo is where I get scared, depressed, and angry. This is why I have anxiety about starting another round. I hope we don’t get three Januarys in a row like last year. I’m hoping for an early spring. I hope I survive the next seven rounds of chemo. I hope radiation treatment is not needed. I hope cancer doesn’t financially ruin us this time or in the future. I hope we can figure out why colon cancer is becoming more common in younger people. I hope I won’t need a cane or walker. I hope I’ll get to meet The Avengers . . . and Spike.
All I can do is hope.
Team Hedgehog 