Last week was supposed to be my “good week”, being the phase in the chemo cycle when things are meant to be settling down and I’m supposed to get a few days to feel a little more like myself before the merry-go-round starts again.
Except, somewhere around Wednesday, I started feeling progressively ‘not quite right’…
Nothing dramatic. Just that nagging feeling that my body was trying to tell me something, but I wasn’t entirely sure what, and I was unexpectedly and ridiculously tired.
Last Friday was blood-test day, and the results would determine whether I was fit enough to go ahead with the next cycle of treatment this week.
Unfortunately, my bloods had other ideas.
My magnesium level was too low – apparently a known side effect of chemotherapy – and my oncologist wanted me to have an infusion to get it back up again.
There was just one small problem.
By the time this had all been decided, it was too late in the day.
The infusion takes around two hours, but the department closes at 6pm, so there was no chance of squeezing it in. Instead, I was sent home with some truly foul-tasting stuff to drink twice a day.
I have been taking it dutifully.
I deserve a medal. Or at least something that tastes considerably better.
This morning I was back for another set of bloods, waiting to discover whether I was going to be allowed to proceed with treatment tomorrow.
And the good news is…
YES!! 🎉😊
My treatment can go ahead tomorrow, which I am genuinely delighted about because it means I will have reached the halfway point with three out of six cycles completed.
There is, however, a slight complication.
My magnesium is still too low and my kidney function is raised, so my oncologist has prescribed an extra bag of intravenous medication to be given after my treatment tomorrow.
That will add another couple of hours to what is already a fairly long day, but honestly, I don’t mind.
If a couple of extra hours attached to a drip keeps everything moving in the right direction, I’ll happily sit there and quietly read a book.
And then, just when I thought I was becoming reasonably familiar with the more bizarre things chemotherapy can do to a human, I discovered something new today. My computer seems to have been playing up lately and not recognising my fingerprint, so I have to keep entering a password. I realised this morning, it’s not my computer.
My fingerprints have disappeared! 😳
Apparently, this is another known side effect of chemotherapy.
So obviously my first thought was that I should make the most of this unexpected development. Who knew chemo could turn me into a potential criminal mastermind?
Perhaps it’s time for a bank robbery?
Although, knowing my luck, I’d probably get caught because with my current chemo brain I wouldn’t remember where I’d left the getaway car. 🤦♀️
Then, of course, I realised that so many of the familiar high-street banks have now disappeared, and their distinctive facades and lovely buildings are now beauty salons, restaurants and charity shops.
Maybe an archive visit would be more appropriate?
No fingerprints. Access to historical documents. An unhealthy interest in old records…
Actually, that sounds like a perfectly good way to spend an afternoon to me. 🤣
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