As I lie in my hospital bed, waiting for the toxins of the fifth session of chemotherapy to make their way into my body, there’s time for one last post before Christmas. This year’s festivities will obviously be different from the past’s. The Christmas of my childhood is long gone. I’ve written about it at length in my other blog (e.g. Christmas Revisited).
For the last four years, I’ve developed my own tradition. This tradition of my family and children has involved flights to Argentina, by way of Frankfurt or London, with morning arrivals in Buenos Aires on Christmas Day to skin-melting temperatures. Flucha’s dad, called Lolo by the children, would always pick us up at the airport and drive us home where we would try to recover from the long flight and survive until Christmas proper, which is celebrated at midnight with champagne, gifts and fireworks throughout town. Though all are exhausted from traveling, and the wait is brutal, I’ve not yet been able to move the celebration forward by a few hours.
Chemotherapy is becoming another tradition. I've done four sessions already, and they're the same every time. The side effects should be the same as well. The only expected difference is a deterioration, a worsening of the effects. The doctors warn that if they become unbearable, the dosage might need to be adjusted. In my case, it's been all different so far. Only one side effect has got slightly worse. The tingling in my fingers, induced by the cold, can become painful quickly, especially during the first few days of a session. I need thick gloves even if it’s not particularly wintry outside. When I’m inside, I have less command of my fingers than normally. Typing is more effort. Towards the end of the session, the effect is almost gone, but at the beginning, it is spreading.
I feel it in my throat when I drink cold water. I also feel it in my eyes when I ride my bike. This is the strangest thing. It’s as if my eyes were freezing shut. I can see a bit but not a whole lot. My eyes are like slits. This keeps me from riding through the forest but the road should be fine. This is not a problem at the moment. With Singapore last week and the trip to Germany before that, I haven’t ridden my bike to work much – and I won’t over the next two weeks.
Another side effect that bothered me a lot during the third session disappeared during the fourth. I hope it stays that way. During the third session, I was kept awake for a few nights by an urge to pee when I couldn’t, and woke up frequently during many more nights. I had uncomfortable sensations at the tip of my membrum virile throughout the day. I feared this would get worse but I was lucky. The fourth session didn’t spark any of this, and I was free of discomfort.
What has stayed with me is the damage in my nostrils. When I blow my nose, the result is red. I’m not bleeding from the nose, but sometimes it feels as if I were close. In Singapore, or back in Switzerland, I got caught a bit of a cold. Probably something to do with the drastic changes in temperature. This doesn’t give me nose a rest. The doctors said mucous membranes would be hit hard by chemotherapy. They’re made up of quickly dividing cells, after all. I count myself lucky that my mouth and gut haven’t suffered any damage.
Flucha and the children have already arrived in Argentina. They are playing with and getting scratched by auntie’s new puppy and eat the things they eat only once a year. I’m in Switzerland with my mom. It will be a strange Christmas, but we’ll make it a merry one.
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