First impression

Ten days after the beginning of yet another therapy, the third one now, I can draw a first conclusion.  Things are happening.  The drugs are doing something.  I can’t say anything about their action against the tumor, but the side effects are clear and as expected.

My nose looks like Boris Yeltzin’s after a particularly boozy day.  It’s big, ruddy and doesn’t seem to fit my face.  The skin on either side of the nose is irritated.  It has grown a lawn of tiny pimples.  Squeezing them out – a laborious and painful procedure that’s probably not what the doctor would recommend – leaves behind the scarred surface of a battlefield.

On the upside, my blood vessels are much pleased that the anti-VEGF antibody is gone.  Each morning over the last few months, I used to blow huge chunks of bloody mucus from my nose.  It looked a bit like the Texan Chainsaw Massacre.  Not exactly painful, but quite unpleasant.  This seems to be improving now, while everything around my nose is getting worse.

My face is extremely dry, from the lips to the forehead.  I’ve started applying lip balm throughout the day.  When I rub my forehead, skin comes off in a shower of tiny flakes.  Flucha’s rejuvenating night cream – a gift of mine a few years back that’s been largely ignored – has found a more appreciative new home in my bathroom.  It helps me get some moisture back into my skin.

These side effects are in line with what EGFR antibodies are known to cause.  They aren’t grave.  I need to look after my face to avoid turning into a freak, but I’m not suffering acutely.  If the symptoms don't get much worse, I can handle them.  With corona still keeping tight restrictions on the number of international destinations available to travelers not inclined to quarantine for two weeks, I’m not seeing any customers.  As long as I’m not scaring my colleagues, I’m fine.  I’ll take the second session on Wednesday without any apprehension.