Breakfast is here! So is lunch, and dinner!

Dang, it's 5:00pm on the noggin and dinner has just arrived, I feel like I have just finished eating breakfast. Now that the effects of the chemo are kicking in the only thing that seems to be speeding up in my life is the rate at which food arrives. Normally I would consider rapidly arriving food a good, nay, great thing, even if it's just hospital food. Now, annoyingly, my appetite seems to be falling of a cliff at the same pace that I am getting food shoved in my face. Suddenly food is hard work, and my brain just can't figure that one out.
I knew this was coming as I have been here before, and I do have strategies to deal with it, but somehow it still comes as a surprise.
The other change that is taking place is in my energy levels and in my blood counts. Both have started to drop away as expected.
That's all from me today, it's time for me to have a snooze.
Cheers, Pete.

The Fountain

Well it is now late on the second day of the first cycle of high dose chemo and, while it is still very early days, everything is going very well. I've got everthing crossed that things continue that way, except my nuts... cos I've only got one. Sorry Mum, this blog is really seems to be going down hill fast, must be the chemo.
... Except that the chemo hasn't really kicked in yet...

Inspite of my best efforts to fatten up, and inspite of the 7 litres of fluid I receive as part of the chemo regime, I have dropped a couple of kilos since my last admission into hospital. It's not a big deal at this stage but it does show just how hard my body is working trying to repair itself. Need nore custard (that could be a hint).
Taking on 7 litres of fluid per day through the drip, plus whatever I drink results in a situation that looks a lot like this (sorry again mum):

 Except that I am aiming at a target that looks like this:

 Lucky I'm a good shot (but it probably depends who you ask).
Cheers, Pete.

Things that go squwark in the night

It was about 1am when she rolled up to my hospital bed again,tripping over her 5 left feet, full of fluid as usual, and carrying plenty more to share... Yes polly is back, readers who haven't met polly before might want to click here for an introduction: http://nutjobdiaries.blogspot.com.au/2013/03/a-confession.html
She is a sneaky one, taking advantage of my half awake state she innocently offered me a harmless drink.
"What's the harm in a bit of saline with a bit of magnesium and potassium in it?" she said.
"Might even be good for you" she said.
"Give your electrolytes a boost" she said
"Oh alright" I said, half in an attempt to shut her up, experience should have told me that that was never going to work.
And that was it, she had found a way in and once under my skin she knew she could move on to the harder stuff without me being able to stop her, in the course of the next few hours I would have Emend, Granisetron, Dexametasone, Lasix, Etoposide and Carboplatin all flowing through my veins.
I'm going to pay a price for that lot over the next few weeks, but the worst thing is I know she will be back again in the wee small hours to pull the exact same trick, and I will fall for it all over again. I must be getting something out of it, she keeps telling me it is for my own good, it sure doesn't feel like it but for some reason I believe her.
Cheers, Pete

It''s Thursday afternoon so we will soon be heading into the hospital for the next round of chemotherapy. On the outside I am totally cool about it all, a bit like this:

Sure doc, that's cool, go your hardest, I'm fine.

 But occasionally I just want to do this:

I haven't got to this point yet:

NOPE, not doing it, you can't make me do it.

So in the end I end up taking the bath anyway:

Which makes me feel like this:

And I might end up driving the porcelain bus a bit:

But don't worry, I plan to keep working on the blog:

In a few months I'm sure I will be back to this:

cos I don't want to miss a second of this:

For those who haven't guessed yet, I really like dogs, and in the Chinese zodiac I was born in a dog year.
Cheers, Pete.