“Woah we’re halfway there.”
Round seven of chemo is history, and round eight is almost over. They’ve both been on the higher difficulty, but I’m still surviving. Neuropathy has been the biggest thorn in my side. Okay, not my side but my lips, throat, mouth in general, nose, eyes, and fingers. Winter is in full effect and does not care about chemo side effects.
On January 5ᵗʰ I was scheduled for my second CT scan to see if the cancer had any changes. It was the first time in my nearly four years of cancer experience that I had any issues with a scan. We had to drive through a storm which caused us to arrive thirty minutes late. The scan itself was still an hour later, but the contrast drink needed to be started an hour and a half before the scan. I thought this would mean we had to reschedule, but there was an alternative contrast I could drink in less time. They brought out a large bottle of clear liquid and gave me a flavor packet of my choice. Just one problem. It had to be refrigerated before use.
The 8ᵗʰ infusion was only two days before the scan on a Wednesday because the usual Monday was on New Year’s Day. My cold sensitivity was still high. I tried my best. They wrapped a towel around it so I could hold it. We found a long straw so I could bypass my lips with each sip. I tried
taking two sips before swallowing to speed up the process, but the second sip was too cold. After twenty minutes I’d only lowered the drink level by maybe a centimeter. I was fighting back tears because they would only add to the pain when they touched my eyes.
The person who would be doing the scan came out to check on me. She must have seen the frustration and anxiety on my face because she immediately suggested rescheduling. She
managed to make an appointment a week later and returned with two bottles of regular contrast. She confirmed I could leave them on the counter to avoid any cold issues and marked out the times to drink each portion so I could start before I arrived.
I talked with my oncology team yesterday. My new scan date is tomorrow. We may or may not add radiation therapy depending on the results. I don’t know how radiation works so I’m nervous about it. I’ve found a few videos on YouTube to check out since understanding a thing eases the fear in my case. My dreams have been a little more tense because of the fear. We talked about rescheduling round nine from the 15ᵗʰ to the 22nd to wait for the scan results and give me more time to recover while I move into our new apartment. If we keep it as is (and nothing goes wrong) I’ll have no more infusions after February. We have until the end of January to move out
and are taking advantage of the three weeks’ overlap in leases to move a little as we go. Round nine is still set for the 15ᵗʰ at my request since the move won’t be done for a while.
That’s right. We’re in the middle of a move. On the list of things to do during chemo, I would not recommend it. Zero out of 1000. The last place was a major improvement compared to our first apartment, but there were a few issues that weren’t going to go away if we stayed another year. I’m not happy about moving ever, but our newest apartment has enough to ease the transition.
The new apartment has smaller bedrooms but two full bathrooms instead of one. Both bathtubs are larger than the one at our last place, so you can bet I’m making the master look as relaxing as possible. I plan on recharging a lot there. The apartment complex includes a year-round hot tub. I’m going to find a way to enjoy it before I’m done with chemo. It may mean bundling up
and making a mad dash to the 24-hour gym next to it before my neuropathy gets too angry. It may mean wrapping a towel around my face like a mummy to prevent exposure to the cold air.
We’ll see. The pool and the gym will be key to gaining my strength back.
Kudos to Brady and Patrick for helping move our bed, couch, and a few other big things so we could start living in the new place immediately. Seeing you two and Oscar joke around somehow gave me extra energy from laughing so much. You distracted me from feeling like I wasn’t doing enough and boosted Oscar’s spirits immensely. It was a crazy day, but you made it wonderful. I will still die on the “Oscar has been amazing at packing the majority of the time so I can focus on recovery” hill. Feel free to tease him about almost everything else.
Meet the newest member of House Mendez: Ghost, aka Ghostie, aka Ghost Malone. He’s a four-month-old French bulldog gifted to us by Oscar’s parents last month who breed them. He came with the name, given to him by a toddler who probably had Halloween on her mind since another puppy was named Spider.
Shortly after we took him home, Oscar came down with a nasty cold. Usually, it’s me who takes care of him when he’s sick, but because we couldn’t risk me catching it we had to split the old apartment in two. We’d set up a baby gate to keep the puppy separate from the pug and cat until they were more used to this rambunctious baby. For a week I hung out in my room with only the pug and cat for company. Oscar used what energy he had to train Ghost, work, and function with a cold. I pet that dawg as much as I safely could, but after a week Ghost clearly bonded with Oscar more. The puppy leaps off my lap as soon as Oscar comes back home. Lately, Ghost gets away with cuddling on the couch with me more than Oscar allows, primarily because he’s not housebroken. The move set us back a bit in potty training, but he’s improving on other behaviors.
Rager is no longer fluffing up and swatting when he sees Ghost, but he’s got middle-child syndrome now. We haven’t brought him to the new place just yet. He was difficult to move last time when we tried doing it the same day the movers took the majority of our things. So we’re taking it slow. He has a calming pheromone plug-in that is supposed to improve his mood over time. We check in on him once or twice a day when we pick up smaller boxes to bring to the new apartment. We do our best to cuddle him and spoil him with extra treats, but it’s hard to leave him alone. I keep reminding myself he did fine when we’d gone on vacation for a week while someone visited twice a day to feed him.
Then there’s the old man. Silas hit a new geriatric milestone last month. I give him teeth cleaning treats regularly, but after almost 15 years they’ve gotten to where they need removal. He also had a potential tumor on his leg. He lost about ten teeth and the tumor during surgery just before New Year’s. He transitioned from regular kibble in water to soft meat chunks in gravy once the kidney care prescription cans arrived. He’s proved to be a messy eater, and Ghost is a big fan of cleaning up whatever scraps I miss.
After a few days in the new place with Silas, I made a realization. Almost six months ago he started waking up suddenly, breathing heavily and looking around like he needed confirmation of where he was. Later he started getting out of bed in the middle of the night and walking around the room before I finally led him back to bed.
When we got Ghost, these wanderings became more common but extended down to the
kitchen and back. We were leaving our bedroom door cracked to give Ruger more access since he’d lost the living room on the other side of the baby gate. The pug would nose the door open and pace back and forth for ten to twenty minutes if we didn’t stop him. The new place has an island in the kitchen area. Now he paces in the hallway and makes laps around the island. This is what got me curious.
These are signs of dementia or another form of cognitive decline in dogs. It’s a display of anxiety in a dog that doesn’t quite know where they are. I confirmed with a vet assistant this is likely what Silas is dealing with. It doesn’t mean it’s time to let him go since there are treatment options to help ease the anxiety.
Silas has been a big part of my time with cancer and all the other crazy things I’ve gone through since 2009. Recently, he’s gone mostly deaf, started losing vision in his remaining eye with possible cataracts, lost a few pounds due to deteriorating muscle in his rear legs, and tolerated a couple of fused vertebrae causing an arch in his back. He’s still sassy if I leave home for too long and gets just as excited when it’s time to eat. I don’t know how much longer I have the bestest of bois, but I’m glad he’s still here to help me through this.
Team Hedgehog 