The fishbowl

I was suspicious that I had been feeling so great after my third chemo and held my breath for the week following the treatment. Like clockwork, I began to feel awful. I’ve dubbed this the 6th day, 6-day slump. It seems to be around the 6th day post treatment, the chemo rollercoaster has finished its climb and is ready for the drop.

I would like to think this drop could be considered thrilling, but really it could be placed in the “I’d rather face-plant into concrete” category. As an added bonus, it lasts more than a few days.

There is a bright side, thankfully, and it is that the week following this hellish slump gets better. I get to feel less nauseated, with fewer headaches, and my muscles will not have a revolution.

While I wait for this slump to pass and for the brighter days to come into view, I have much time to ponder simple things, such as:

How come I can fall asleep in a warm bath, but am wide-awake within warm blankets?

Or, what will make me less nauseous: corn flakes with milk or toast with butter?

Still, the vague irony is that the nicest days seem to be the ones where I am committed inside.

This North Texas spring has been the mildest I can remember and beckons us to come outdoors. My outdoor excitement these past few days has been getting the mail and absorbing as much Vitamin D as I can, before I regret walking outside in my pajamas in full view of the neighbors.

As of late, my body in full Revolutionary mode, complete with its own Boston Tea Party, and dumping contents into the sea (let me not get more explicit than this).

I am either a glutton for punishment, or there is truly nothing on television, because I watch Food Network even during these times. Trip to the toilet and then: Oh! Cupcake Wars is on! How does someone make 1,000 cupcakes in 2 hours?

I am saddened that my existence has been homogenized by generic questions such as the above. I reflect upon a time when I was working two jobs and going to school. I recall reading school material with zeal. Now, the same zeal has been applied to maintaining hydrated and a preoccupation with blood cell counts and body temperature.

For some reason, I still like to cook when I feel awful, even if I don’t eat the food. For example, today, the war continues and I still found satisfaction in creaming together butter and sugar.

Perhaps all these things are a way to bide my time before the upcoming 4th chemo treatment and the tests that will follow to see my progress.

Part of me is anxious to see how much the mass has reduced at the halfway point and the outlook for the duration of my summer.

Thus, distractions and revolutions ensue.

Orange pound cake, anyone?