Here one week, gone the next.
Last week the effects of my second session of chemotherapy had faded almost completely
away. My thinking cleared - and our Saturday night barbeque steak pizza tasted like
This week, my third session of chemo hit me up-side the head real good.
Dani and I drove into Chicago Monday for the third installment of "the pump."
We actually spent a pleasant couple of hours in the doctor's office perusing old Newsweek
and People magazines, and watching "Annie Hall" while the two-hour dose of irridium
dripped in. After that, Molly attached the little red ball of medicine I get to
keep in my pocket for the next four days, and then we were on our way - straight home
this time, since Papa was in Chicago golfing and the three older kids were going
to have to be on their own until we got back.
We did make a quick stop at Wendy's. And the burger, Biggie Fries and Frosty were
But that was Monday.
By Friday I was laid out in bed, and the Wendy's Deluxe Double-stacked Cheddarburger I saw on TV - the one that almost had my mouth watering a week before - was beginning
to turn my stomach.
Not only did my lips feel oily and my mouth all slimy again, but even the thought of the few foods I
treasured during sessions one and two made me queasy. Now there is a whole jar
of Kosher dill pickles sitting in the fridge I don't even want to think about, and
bottles of "Glacier Freeze" Gatorade sitting on top that I would rather not look at.
Food tasting bad again is hard to take. Harder, I think, after a week of heaven when
it had started to taste so good again.
The mental effects seemed to hit harder too. As I was about to discover.