Day 11

Days go by…

I still have a lot of trouble getting moving in the morning. As everyone knows I have never really been a morning person. But I have always been able to cope and perform. It’s actually getting frustrating how long it takes me before I’m finished with the morning routine (breakfast, toilet, shower, shave, teeth, throat and dressed).

One minor occurrence: the tube going from the tap to the shower head bust while I was having a shower. Luckily this didn’t happen during one of the three showers I take with the pump attached to me as water went absolutely everywhere.

At the end of the morning, beginning of the afternoon, I had my shower, ate my lunch (loving pre-prepared by Desney) and headed back to the clinic. In and out and back home. It takes me much longer to get to the clinic than the time I spend there when I only have x-ray therapy. This is fine by me as I get depressed just walking down the street to the clinic let alone sitting in the waiting rooms which are 90% filled with people like me… none of whom are happy. Would you be?

I got home from the clinic, went to the hardware store and got a new tube for the shower and went to the barber and got my haircut. There’s still this thought in the back of my head: “Why am I paying somebody 12 € to cut my hair when it’s probably all going to fall out in the next couple of weeks?” But it was starting to get difficult to wash so I guess it was worth it.

Finally got home and slept until dinner. Desney made a lovely steak for dinner which I was able to eat. Everything tastes bland to me. I think that is basically due to the lack of saliva.

My current situation as regards the evolution of all of this is that my mouth and throat get drier every day. It doesn’t actually hurt (yet) except when I yawn. But everything is very dry. When I drink water my mouth and throat feel lubricated again but it only lasts seconds. The solution would be to somehow attach a pump that shoves water in my mouth every 30 seconds throughout the day. But just the calculation of how much time I’d spend running back and forth to the toilet negates this option.

So far so good… Moving forward… Counting the days… Still fearing the next week of chemo (in 10 more days).