Bumps in the path

As you've no doubt gathered, for the past couple of weeks I haven't been at my best. I had to miss a session of chemo, and this time when I went in I brought several new and continuing symptoms. My blood counts were good enough for me to have the treatment, so while I was in getting the chemo they set up a CAT scan for me, also yesterday. It made for a long day, but it was good to get it done. Dr. Nickerson called later to say that the protrusion on my abdomen was probably not due to fluid build-up, the new tumor, or the hernia, but was localized in the stomach. Apparently nothing is getting through. He's setting up an appointment with a surgeon to see if they can put an NG tube down my throat to relieve the stomach, or possibly some sort of permanent opening into the stomach to relieve it as necessary. I'll keep you posted.
Came home and threw up five times last night, which when you consider that I was on two different kinds of anti-nausea meds must be some kind of record.


Meanwhile, I feel these days as though the characteristics that make up my personality, my self, are being stripped away as you'd peel an onion. Each layer that goes is a basic, though maybe not crucial, part of me.

There are the little things: coffee, red wine, chocolate. When I lost coffee, I lost a focus for thinking, and a special link to sociability. Red wine gave me those as well. For years Jerry and I have had a tradition of a piece of dark chocolate and some more wine at the end of dinner. That tradition is gone.
Each of these small tastes opened me up to years of memories which seem faded now.

I don't enjoy food. I don't want to cook, don't like the smell of food cooking, don't want to eat what's on my plate, feel immediately bloated. Is this what teenaged girls feel when they have anorexia?

I have lost hatha yoga. There are too many poses I cannot reach or hold. I have lost pranayama -- whatever is pressing on my abdomen makes deep breaths painful. Yes, I can still meditate, but the fatigue tends to take over and I fall asleep.

The latest to go, I think, is playing the trombone. Not only do fatigue and deep breaths get in the way, but the pressure on the abdomen makes me throw up. We played a concert down the hill here in Marlborough last week, and mid-way through I barely made it to the restroom.

I feel as though along with these tastes and activities, I am losing my zest and my appetites for all of the things I used to love. I don't even read as much as I used to. I feel as though I'm becoming ... boring.