That is the number of days until I get my life back. I understand that is phrased selfishly. I feel like being selfish.
Present treatments lined up adds to 180 days. 18 weeks of chemo and 30 days of radiation with a small interchange of treatments.
It’s been quite the whirlwind to this point. Near four months since the tumour was detected through a mammogram, breast surgery and recuperation time. Doctors don’t fool around. I can not complain on wait times. Or I’m just naive.
Really it’s day 1.
And I messed up. I forgot my pills that I was supposed to take with breakfast. So I slowed us done by near three hours. Very unfortunate on an already five hour day. The first time is slow. They introduce the drugs slowly to see how the body handles it. I seemed to do OK.
One chemo drug kills the nails and we must wear cold gloves and booties to slow absorption.
Everything was going well. Until dinner. The husband made Turkey a la King. It definitely did not agree with me. Which is strange. We are fans of the chicken version.
I am trying to stay positive.
Day 2 has been OK. My mouth tastes funny already and my pee smells horrid. Pills are going in OK. Had to learn injections into my belly. Boo. Husband has been nominated for that. I’m squeamish with needles.
It’s good to have a strong man. I’ll understand the concept for just the case. Just sticking things in me goes against my idea of sane.