I feel as if I am crawling out of a miasma of pain, drugs, and hospital admissions and readmissions to deal with, among other complications of the second surgery, an infection in the body cavity, a separate infection 0f the incision, and 35 pounds of edema in the lower body. Supposedly, there is about a four percent chance at MSK of getting an infection from one of the surgeries I underwent; I have heard no theories on why I got three infections from my two surgeries.
So far, since the second surgery, I have almost no appetite; most food does not taste to me as it always has, and the new tastes are unappealing. I am now allowed to drink wine, and I enjoyed a glass of rose; but I couldn't drink the other two wines, a Champagne and a California cabernet, that I tasted. (I have been told and fervently hope that, in time, food and drink will regain their tastes and appeal.) I can sleep only for about an hour without awakening in discomfort.
I recall that Vince Lombardi was quoted to the effect that fatigue makes cowards of us all. He certainly would have been right in my case. After a few weeks, it was hard to think of the big picture that led me down this path, that there is a chance of cure from undergoing these surgeries and the chemotherapy to follow. I just wanted the pain and the unremitting feeling of sickness to stop.
Ideally, the medical oncologist would like for me to be resuming chemotherapy about now. However, he said when he saw me six days ago that I had to gain weight by eating as much high-calorie food as possible, as well as to gain strength through exercise, before they could start the chemotherapy-- otherwise, a single dose might kill me. I weighed 161 pounds that day. This morning, I weighed 155, as a result of digestive tract problems that caused MSK to send me to its emergency room for most of the day. So far, the tests do not reveal any medical problem to be treated.
The best news on the medical front is that I have been freed to exercise again. I have started physical therapy, and I have reactivated my gym membership. I cannot do much, and I get very tired, but it feels great to be moving again and to observe some faint signs of rehabilitation. If you recall the model, Twiggy, from the 1960s, she was robust by comparison with me. So I have lots of room for recovery.
Even better news is that I am feeling up to seeing friends again, if only for short visits at this point. I hope to see you soon. With this update having been posted, we can talk about things other than my health when we get together. I think of the current period as a brief window, as there is no way of knowing how sick the chemotherapy will make me.
