Among the items I found under the Christmas tree was the book The Happiness Hypothesis. Thinking that I could use some of the points in the book to introduce today’s post, I dropped into an impossible tangle of psychology and philosophy confusion. Every word I wrote removed sense and logic from the paragraph. Eventually I gave up. There’s no need for blather. I am quite happy at the moment.
I am feeling so much better than a week ago. Last Wednesday and in the morning of New Year’s Eve, I had my pleural sac drained twice more. Each time, 1.5 liters of the same brown liquid were removed as before Christmas. The difference this time? The liquid didn’t quickly reaccumulate. My breathing eased. The X-rays showed decreasing liquid levels.
It’s not all good. I cannot breathe deeply and I have to be careful how I sleep. During the third puncturing of my pleural sac, the liquid drained so quickly that the decompressing lung banged into the piece of tubing inside the pleural sac. No harm done, but the surface of the lung got a bit irritated. I almost coughed my heart out before the nurse stopped the flow. For a couple of days afterwards, stabs of pain would shoot from this area when I inhaled in a particularly vigorous way.
The doctor agrees that the reason for my misery over these last couple of weeks was the cancer growing out of control. It was a bit like the second wave of corona in Switzerland. When measures were taken, the cancer quickly slowed down. Good thing I’m not reliant on the rest of the country complying with chemotherapy. I started with two pills on Friday. Last Thursday, I upped that to three. Next week, I’ll do four, if the doctor agrees. I’ll see him again on Tuesday.
Even if the therapy doesn’t beat the cancer, it will slow it considerably. I wonder how long this can go on for. The main side effect of the new drug seems loss of appetite. One of the main goals during chemotherapy is keeping one’s weight and with it one’s strength. Loss of appetite is dangerous. It can end a therapy prematurely. It is also very strange.
I’ve been doing very well so far with regards to eating. I’ve kept my weight and my appetite through a number of therapies and an even larger number of fasting sessions. Now I’m in a bit of a different situation, and it’s not a good one. I haven’t eaten much since Christmas because I didn’t feel good. Then I started chemotherapy. While I got a bit better quickly, I also lost much of my appetite. I was hungry but managed to force down only the smallest amounts of food. This is very frustrating. By now, I’m down a good four kilograms, even though I’ve been eating better over the last few days. I’ve mentioned before that it’s not easy to gain weight.
Since Christmas, I’ve been mostly sitting on the sofa, being cold. What I only noticed this morning is how I’ve been losing muscle. I look like the skeletal remains of myself, with shriveled legs and sticks for arms. I realized with some panic that I had got stuck in a place where I really don’t want to be. A few days ago, I canceled my FulGaz subscription because I thought I wouldn’t quickly get back into a state where I would want to ride my trainer. This morning, I pumped the tires and went for an easy spin, no resistance, just half an hour of moving my legs. It felt good, it got my circulation going, and it told me clearly what I need to do.
The function of my lungs is largely ok. My digestion is largely ok. My body overall feels like an old man’s. I went up and down the stairs a good dozen times today, mostly to make a point. I started helping in the kitchen and with the children. I need to involve myself more, be more energetic, show signs of life. The body might currently not be a willing partner in these exercises, but right now it’s all in the mind. I cannot remain stuck in passivity and ruin.
Happy New Year!
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