A week without a chemo treatment and I'm feeling good. There are longer intervals between trips to the washroom and no naps in the afternoon. I start getting sleepy mid-evening, but that's it.
I've played bridge almost every day (last Friday in St. Catharines, Ont.), gone shopping in the afternoons and worked each night (except Friday and Saturday, of course). I've been to the dentist and the dermatologist.
Now that the temperature is finally peeking above freezing, I've chipped the ice off a path to the garage. I've had wasabi with sushi and Tabasco with soup without digestive backlash. Alcoholic beverages, on the other hand, I'm still avoiding.
This lovely grace period comes to a halt on Wednesday, when I go back to Roswell Park Cancer Institute to start the third round of chemo, beginning with the double infusion of Cisplatin and Gembitamine. Will I be flattened by fatigue again for a week or more? Could be. This time, at least, I know it's coming.
So I've stocked up on bottled water and Tuesday I'm getting my hair cut, figuring that if it doesn't happen now, it could be two or three weeks before I'm up to it again. By then, if I'm lucky enough to not start losing my hair, I'd look like a mountain man.
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