In Which I Am Hit By a Truck

I hope that I am not jinxing myself by posting this, but I think I have turned the corner from the first round of chemo. KNOCKING ON WOOD...

The doc warned that the low point would hit at some time over the weekend, and could continue through day 7 (these first chemo cycles are 14 days, so day 1 = chemo, day 2 = shot, day 8 = labs, day 15 = chemo again). Friday morning I was feeling a little dizzy, but this did not last past the morning and the doctor thinks it was probably the residual effects of the meds I took the night before. By Friday evening, I was feeling a little queasy, but nothing too bad. Again, meds to the rescue! The warnings to keep hydrated and keep your stomach full to fend off the nausea were working. 

Saturday morning was a little different. This is when the nausea really started to kick in. No puking (thank God), but NOTHING sounded good. Very hard to keep your stomach full when the thought of every kind of food in your house makes you sick. I subsisted on cranberry juice, Saltines (my new friend), mac-n-cheese (don't ask why this didn't make me sick), and some horrible canned chicken noodle soup. Keith has called a friend and put an order in for her Italian Wedding Soup ASAP! Trying to be helpful, he ran to the store and bought every kind of deli soup that I liked to no avail. Today I hate everything.

And then Sunday around 2am, I realized what the low point really was. By some miracle of God, the nausea meds are still doing their job (in that I am not actually curled up next to the toilet bowl), but I feel so sick. EVERYTHING and EVERYONE smells bad. Not even the Saltines sound good, but I'm gagging them down. To top it off, I feel like I've been run over by a truck...and it backed up over me for a second pass.

The most mundane smells are making me gag. Keith made hashbrowns for the kids for breakfast and I want to kill him (if only I had the energy). The pretzels that everyone is snacking on (which honestly can't be that different than the Saltines) make me want to hurl. And don't get me started on the container of trail mix that Keith opened. 

I've become "that patient." Nothing makes me happy, the drinks aren't hot enough...or cold enough...and don't ask how many times I made Keith heat up the mac-n-cheese.

I consider parental blocking the Food Network at one point. And WHY is every commercial for FOOD? Who knew there would come a time when I would wish for the male enhancement product commercials instead?!

Around 2pm on Sunday, there was a dramatic turnaround. I'm suddenly craving the kids' leftover pizza in the fridge and I convince teenage boy to heat me up a slice (just one, very small, and make sure it's hot). I manage to eat it without gagging, so I'm pretty convinced I've come out of the darkness. 

And then the glorious soup arrives...a vat of it. THANK GOD!

Notes to self for next go-round:
(1) More Saltines on hand
(2) More 7-Up
(3) More cranberry juice
(4) Lots and lots of soups...any version of chicken noodle, or other clear broth type
(5) Even when you think you're feeling better, choosing to watch a movie about cooking/chefs/restaurants NOT A GOOD IDEA. Wait on that until about day 10.