This James Brown song has been my theme song this week. Everywhere I go, every entrance I make, I am imagining this song playing. Unfortunately, only I hear the music and as I dance around like a crazy, I get some weird looks.
One of the biggest unknowns going into chemo was how my body was going to react. Now that a week has passed, I am able to compare days and gauge the reaction. Immediately following the chemo last Friday, I was pretty nauseous. They supposedly pre-treated me with me anti-nausea medicine before they gave me the chemo drugs, but my nausea was too intense to be anti-ed because as I walked to the parking lot, a wave of nausea swept over me. We quickly went to the pharmacy to get the prescription filled for the powerful anti-nausea medicine, Zofran. Zofran is the real deal. One tiny pill of that and I was good to go.
Saturday and Sunday I felt pretty normal. I was a tiny bit tired, but I think part of that was the 10 hour days I worked that week. Monday was probably the "worst" day. And I use "worst" very loosely, because it wasn't that bad. I felt tired and worn out, but that I could handle. It was the mouth sores that made me want to spit every 5 seconds. Monday morning I woke up with what seemed like lots of little cuts inside my mouth. It felt like I had chewed on shards of glass overnight. The sores left my mouth with an acidic/bloody taste. All I desired to do was to keep spitting to get that taste out of my mouth. Sadly, we don't keep spittoons around the gym and it wouldn't have exactly been professional for me to carry a trash can around all day.
Tuesday the sores were on the mend, and I started to feel like I was getting my energy back. Wednesday came and I was back to my normal self, only much hungrier. The doctor claimed that the steroid they gave me on Friday would wear off within 48 hours. I think for me, it was just kicking in. I wanted to eat everything in site. Everything (and I mean everything) sounded absolutely delicious to me. Even the fried chicken that had been sitting under the heat lamp for 16 hours at the grocery store seemed like a good idea. Luckily something (thank you, Shane) brought me to my senses as I had the chicken in hand heading towards the check-out line, and I returned it to its heat lamp home for some other steroid-crazed person to chow down on.
Since Wednesday I have felt absolutely great. It was a sweet relief to be completely appointment free this past week which hasn't happened since April. Now the weekend is here and I am going to kick it James Brown style, feelin' good.
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