These days I’m watching my skin with more attention than ever. You might not consider this very interesting. If so, good for you. Healthy skin is a slow-moving organ. My skin is not healthy. It’s suffering from the anti-EGFR antibody. But like anything alive, it knows to fend for itself.
My face looked like every teenager’s worst fear, acne at full bloom, around the second session with Vectibix. Since then, the pimples and pustules have receded completely and not even tried to make a comeback. With all the nourishing night balm and invigorating day cream, my face looks better than in a long time. The patches of darker pigmentation that appeared on my forehead over the last few years have all but gone. At the very least, they are greatly smoothened. It feels good to take care of oneself.
The cuts on the tips of my thumbs have nearly healed. This is quite surprising, as the cuts remained stubbornly open for a long time. Things improved when I started spreading vaseline spiked with salicylic acid on them. This is just a correlation. Without a negative control it’s impossible to say for sure that the unguent helped. But I give it two thumbs up anyway because the pain is gone and I can use my thumbs normally again.
I’ve also started spreading the stuff on my big toes. They aren’t cut, but there are dark spots next to the nails. They’re swollen and slightly painful. Red goo accumulates at one of the sides of the nails. I don’t know what this means and haven’t been brave enough to ask the doctor to find out. If they still look bad two weeks from now, I will.
My shoulder and my upper back are still – hold on to your seats, fans of alliterations – spangled with scarlet spots. Almost all of them are completely flat. There are no eruptions of pus when I touch or, despite knowing better, scratch them. They don’t hurt. I couldn’t care less.
What I do care about is this skin between the bases of my fingers. It has got rather dry and is close to breaking. When I disinfected my hands today, I felt a sharp pain that indicated an open wound. It will need lots of cream to return the suppleness to these bits of skin, especially since they are constantly being stretched left and right.
A strange thing that I first observed a few days ago is that the skin on my arms and also around my ankles seems to have aged rapidly. When I move, it throws a thousand little ripples. I remember seeing this on my grandmother. All the tension is gone. It’s not inconceivable that this has something to do with fasting, but I haven’t lost all that much weight, especially not around the ankles.
That’s all about skin today. Anti-EGFR antibodies are not good for it. The reason I went into this to such depth is to avoid what’s really on my mind. The therapy on Wednesday went as well as it always does. With my regular doctor on vacation, one of his colleagues saw me. She was the warmest, most personable doctor I have met in the oncology department. Without saying anything concrete, she made me feel good and positive. When she called in the evening to ask how I had taken the therapy and whether I was doing all right, I was touched and uplifted.
I should have known better. Doctors don’t call with good news. At least I have never got good news on the phone. There is a clear pattern. The doctor continued by saying that my liver values were bad and that I should come in next week to check them again, and then maybe check the liver. Maybe it’s got something to do with the therapy, she said. Maybe it’s the fasting.
What she didn’t say, what she didn’t have to say, was that it might have something to do with the metastases growing in my liver. This was immediately obvious to me. I didn’t ask any questions because there’s no point to speculate without sufficient data. I didn’t envision scenarios or dwell on dire possibilities, but I was a bit rattled.
The liquor cabinet will stay shut this week.
The call freaked me out enough that I broke my fast without alcohol. This doesn’t count the little glass of red wine on Thursday night, a universally acknowledged remedy for all ailments, but today I had no wine or beer to cut through the grease of our weekly raclette. As I write this, a Chinese green tea keeps me company. As always, I keep hoping for the best, but my optimism is somewhat wavering.
0 comments:
Post a Comment