I spent most of yesterday celebrating a “Normal” day with lots and lots of sunshine. Because of the President’s Day holiday, my mindset and the garbage collectors think this is Tuesday.

Normal Days

Cycle 3, Day 9

Since Day 7 of this cycle, I have been experiencing what I am going to call “Normal Days.” Most of the immediate ill effects of Chemotherapy have worn off. No bandages, no “football” to carry around, no constipation, and nearly normal sleep patterns.

There are some effects I need to realize won’t be going away.

Cold, for instance.

I’m writing this wearing a long-sleeved undershirt, a short-sleeved golf shirt, and topped off with a sweatshirt. And I am cold still cold.

Admittedly it’s partly my fault.

One of the benefits of Normal Days is that I can indulge again in cold orange juice and “Dad Tea.” For the uninitiated, “Dad Tea” is my own variation of that syrupy (in my opinion) concoction known as “Sweet Tea” served here in the south. My variation uses decaffeinated tea, and only a slight hint of sugar. Since starting chemo, “Dad Tea” is more of a luxury than a basic element of living. Of course, served over ice, so I expect to be cold.

I’ve also set the thermostat down to 68 degrees.

Part of my problem with chemo is that I have developed sensitivity to cold, especially in my fingers. If I lunge into the freezer, or for that matter even the refrigerator, my fingertips let me believe that even a quick delve into said appliance puts me in immediate danger of frostbite. And I am wondering if maybe that feeling will continue after I’ve finished with chemo. I had a chat with a friend of mine who had finished chemo a few months ago. He complained that since chemo he has had cold feet – even on the warmest days.

As I’ve continued this journey, I’ve looked forward to Normal Days. Sometimes my normal days are few (only one Normal Day during round 4), other cycles, most of the days between treatment are Normal Days. Sure, there are times I need to bundle up to avoid the cold. Other times, I am thankful that the meds are either better tolerated or there just weren’t as many meds on a cycle.

But today is a “Normal Day.”

I’ve done my normal rounds, walked the dog Filbrix, took the trash cans to the curb, filled and ran the dishwasher, checked my emails, and sparred with my insurance carrier.

It feels darn good to be able to do so.

I could complain, but I won’t.

It’s a “Normal Day.” May as well enjoy it while I have it.

Round 4

The day before Thanksgiving is no time to sit in the clinic to receive a dose of Chemo and the attendant medicines. The day after Thanksgiving I needed to have the needle pulled out of my port – something that I couldn’t have done at the infusion clinic due to the staff having the day off. Taking the needle out was all up to me.

I received the good news that I was approved to pull my own needle on the Monday before the infusion. Yes, I viewed the video on the internet and was briefed on the subject ahead of time. Just to be certain that I had the routine down pat, I was pulled into the infusion center ahead of the medications and was given a thorough set of instructions from the nurse in charge of giving instructions to us. A printed set of instructions was included in the package sent home with me, along with supplies and a pair of plastic bags containing the supplies.

The other reason the day before Thanksgiving is no time to sit in the clinic to receive a dose of Chemo and the attendant medicines is that the chemicals tended to kill my appetite, partially because the chemicals played hell with my taste buds.

Thanksgiving turned into a glum affair – Carol didn’t have to cook other than to heat up a package of Hormel Turkey and Gravy (four minutes in the microwave), slam together some mashed potatoes, and figure out what she was going to serve as a vegetable. The only happy creature in the house was the dog Filbrix. I was only able to choke down a little over half of what I was served. Filbrix did her duty by finishing up what I had on my plate. She’s good at that.

There were walks, there were naps, and there was lots of time cruising the internet and phoning the progeny to tell them Happy Thanksgiving.

The test came on Friday. In some senses, the operation was really simple. Daunting, but simple. Stripping the lines between the port and the pump – Injecting saline to clear the line – and then pulling the needle out with the assistance of the butterfly attachments built into the needle. Carol and I managed, got the pump and the needle placed into a “Sharps” bag, and went on with life over the long weekend.

When we were back to reality on Monday, I got in the car and delivered the plastic bags with the pump and the attendant tubing back to the infusion clinic. By the time I arrived, the place was swimming in Christmas decorations. Some of the work was done the day before Thanksgiving. The rest, later. Not unexpected, since nurses like to have a few days off, too.

Be Seeing You!