You know, every time I start to think the chemo’s not as bad as I thought it would be, it turns around and bites me in the ass. Other than occasional waves of exhaustion, I felt pretty good yesterday. So good in fact, that I considered going in to work for a full 8 hour day. At least until 12:45 last night when…. the nausea hit.
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So today was the first chemo treatment – 1 down, 12 to go. So far, I don’t feel any major effects, other than my new port hurting a bit. It’s under bandages for now, so you’ll have to wait for the gruesome photography.

I really feel for the people who had to go through thisin the old days, however. They gave me an anti-nausea drug through the port and it’s supposed to last 72 hours. I don’t feel sick, but my belly feels… weird. I would think that if it weren’t for the drug they gave me, I’d probably be puking my lungs out. As it is, I’ll just need to get up and sit down a little slower than usual to prevent all the weird gurgles.
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Sorry that I haven’t posted in a bit. It’s been a combination of drugs and not much happening.

Saturday, Joe and David stopped by to see the house and go over a plan of attack for the wedding. Joe’s going to be coordinating it for us and David’s going to be taking photos. Sunday, I basically slept all day. Monday was back to work after a stop by the bank. Not the money bank. Let’s just say we’re covering our bases on the fertility front.
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You know, I think if there’s one thing cancer teaches you, it’s how to be humble. I wound up having to leave work today because my energy was getting lower and lower and I was getting dumber and dumber.

I think, at least so far, there are two big parts to my newfound humility to get over.
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So I arrive home today to find a little envelope from St. Francis Hospital. You know, the place I was cooped up in for five days. This wasn’t a bill, as the little paper kept reiterating in bold type. This is just letting me know how much they’re trying to shake out of my insurance company. Are you ready for it? No seriously, are you ready for it?
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Okay, time to do some catching up here. Let’s see, yesterday the PET scan went well. The scanner was one of those they pull up in a trailer, rather than installed in the hospital. On the way into the trailer, up the sharp metal steps, the tech managed to knock himself right off the top step. He had reached the top and was trying to both open the door and move to the side to allow me through. His slip-on shoe hung in the stair’s teeth however, sending him swinging into the abyss hanging onto the door handle. Quite an amusing way to start the day, especially since he didn’t get hurt.
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So today’s my PET/CT scan. This one’s to find out exactly where the Hodgkin’s is and how bad, as well as give us a baseline. You see, Hodgkin’s is tough to read once it starts dying because it leaves scar tissue behind. That means that even though it might be gone from a lymph node, in a CT scan it will still look like it’s got the cancer. The PET actually checks function, so it will actually tell us how much we’re kicking the cancer’s ass later on down the line. Yeehaw.

So, I haven’t taken my pain pills (Dilaudid – not nearly as good as my Lor-Tab babies) since yesterday morning, and the pain in my shoulder is gone. The only drugs I’m on are Naproxen Sodium (Generic CVS Aleve) and amazement. Either Aleve really kicks ass (Dear Aleve, I love your product. Well, not necessarily your product, but the generic brand since yours costs too damn much. Thank you, Brian) or something strange is happening with my spidey-sense. Current thinking here at the Whitney Street Brain Trust is that the lymph node under my arm seems to have stopped swelling, perhaps even has retreated a bit. This has probably caused it to stop pushing on some nerve that heretofore had me munching down pain pills like I was Paula Abdul.
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