The good news is that my blood counts were fine and I was able to get Vinorelbine yesterday!
The bad news is that I came home and barfed!
My nurses think it was more likely due to adjusting to Big Daddy + empty stomach + coughing/gagging than the chemo. Nonetheless, totally gross and uncalled-for. I slept for about an hour before heading back to the hospital for the brain MRI. Not easy in my state (but still, what a wonder that lying still in a space capsule while being assaulted by the sound of various pavement-smashing construction tools for approximately 40 minutes delivers a picture of my brain!) Then home again and weak and exhausted. And so depressed. That’s the thing, it all just wears you out.
Altogether not a good day. A completely crap day, in fact. But I had a better sleep last night and am staying on top of the pain today. I’m still weak – but I have high hopes for the vinorelbine to begin working its magic again like it did last week. Also, helping out on the emotional front, my dad is back in town and my cousin from the U.K. showed up for a quick visit, which has boosted my spirits as it always does when we see each other (which is far too rarely.) Although I have to admit, we’d both prefer the traditional pub visit to this bedside visit nonsense.
Meanwhile my husband and mother (aka: The Executive Committee) have decided that my only job is to eat as much as I possibly can – and super-clean anti-cancer diet be damned. All that rice and miso soup and seaweed might be good for me, but the pounds were dropping and bones are beginning to stick out where they ought not. It was a supermodel diet and I wasn’t a particularly fleshy woman to begin with, so the effect was not that desirable. Besides, seaweed? Please, it’s enough to make anyone nauseated. So, the new rule is if I want pizza, I get pizza. (I don’t want pizza, but I do want pasta… mmm, yes, the fusilli from the Italian place down the street!) My cravings are varied and my appetite sporadic, but I’m eating.
And now, we wait for the results of the MRI. How do you stay hopeful and optimistic while at the same time steel yourself for the worst? Can it be done? The CT scan was clear. That must count for something.