Yesterday was a day to forget. I spent the first two hours – after the girl trotted off to kindergarten – in hospital. This marked the third day in a row I’ve shown up there, something I’ve not done before. When I’ve done poorly in the past, they’ve just kept me there. The procedure was the same as on the previous day, minus the ultrasound. I gave a little blood and waited until the results were ready to discuss them with my doctor.
Normally, I would whip out my trusty AirBook in a situation like this and do work. With reliable wifi, working from the hospital is much the same as working from the airport or working from home. Yesterday, it was a bit different. I was locked out of most of the services I rely on for work. Late the day before, I had got an email from IT to change my password. My details had apparently shown up on a list of compromised accounts.
I proceeded to change my password immediately, correctly typing a very cleverly chosen new password twice into the appropriate boxes. When I typed it for the third time, a few seconds later, to access my email, I was denied. Wrong password, the server claimed. How did I not remember my password from one moment to the next? Had I typed something else from what I had intended, as if on autopilot? Can one do this twice in a row? I will never know. The consequence was that I was locked out of email, calendar, chats, meetings and a fair share of the intranet. My phone was as crippled as my computer. There wasn’t much work I could do. I had not been aware how much of my daily business is driven by incoming emails.
The test showed that one of the liver markers had continued to rise but most were plateauing or even going down. This came as a relief to the doctor who still had no clue about what was going on. He saw no need for drastic action (based on what, anyway?), but didn’t let me get too relaxed. If you need to come to the hospital this weekend, he said, I’ll be in for a few hours each day. What might make me go to the hospital, I asked. Pain, fever, he replied, vaguely. Not exactly reassuring, but nothing concrete to worry about either.
Later, at work, the day continued slowly. I read a few papers and missed a few meetings until a colleague came down to do some work in the lab. She was also kind enough to show me my calendar. By that time, the admin had reset my password. I thought everything was ok now, but I was wrong. Accessing company online services requires two-factor authentication. When I had set this up, I had not chosen my regular phone to receive text messages with the authentication codes but an older one that knows nothing about the internet. It’s not exactly two levels of security if you receive the code on the same device where you’ve just typed your password. Problem was, the phone was at home on my desk. If I hadn’t had things to do in the lab, I would have cycled home in a jiffy, but that didn’t happen until a few hours later when it was already dark outside and the evening well underway. It wasn’t exactly a productive day.
That I didn’t feel great hadn’t made it any better. My belly kept sending signals of persistent distress, and I got more tired by the hour. When I arrived home after failing to achieve much in the lab, the cheese for our weekly raclette was already out of the fridge. This temptation passed me by completely. I went straight to bed, without dinner, and fell asleep almost instantly. I got up once for water but otherwise slept a good thirteen hours.
Things looked better today. I woke up refreshed. The taste of ketone bodies, one of the side effects of fasting, had gone from my mouth. I was ready to eat. After this bright beginning, the day darkened by the hour. My exhaustion returned. My insides recommenced their quiet revolt. It didn’t feel good being myself. Maybe that’s not surprising two days after the end of the 24th chemotherapy session, but it’s not something I’m ready to accept. Despite its grave betrayal, I still like my body and expect it not to let me down. It has failed me for a few days now, without giving a clear indication of why. I can only hope things get better as the weekend progresses.
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