I hope the link in the title of this post works. It should lead you to a New York Times article on 'chemo brain', a term that refers to the cognitive deficits that frustrate women and men during and shortly after chemotherapy--and long after, for some like me.
"Um, John, can you...um...open the...um...cupboard and give me a...um..." I wave my hands, sometimes drawing a shape in the air to indicate the object I'm looking for. Sometimes I describe it: "You know, the thing you use to wipe your mouth when you eat". "You mean napkin?" John asks. Duh. I feel like a non-verbal species of primate.
"It'll come back", my shrink said. Well, apparently not for all. The chemo I had for my primary finished up almost three years ago, and it's not back yet. If the new chemo I just started makes it worse, I may just join a convent.
Did I tell you about my new chemo? I was supposed to start an oral chemo called Xeloda (capecitabine), which is a form of 5-FU--I kid you not, that's the real name--and I had done a lot of research to see what I could do to minimize the dreaded hand/foot syndrome (palmar-plantar erythrodysesthesia--see, I must still have some brain cells; I did all that without looking it up), which would have meant I couldn't walk, hike, or beachcomb this summer. But when I went to my appointment with my onc on Thursday the 26th, he had obviously been thinking...he knew how disheartened I was about possibly being immobile all spring and summer, and he suggested that we go with a chemo called Navelbine (vinorelbine, a vinca alkaloid extracted from the Madagascar periwinkle), which most women would not want to do first, since it's an infusion, but the thought of which made me ecstatically happy! I started it that day, along with a 'premed' of good ol' compazine to prevent nausea. I came home with a scrip, but didn't need to use any more! My only side effect was being ready for bed a little earlier that night.
Please, please, please let it work! We are moving (yes, it's sudden) to a gorgeous place in Portland (CT) with a 70-foot ravine down to a beautiful brook behind the house. It has not only a deck, but a screened-in porch, complete with kitty door from the master bedroom, and a beautiful knotty pine living room. We hadn't planned to move, but (boss) Cathy and her partner (guru/therapist) Pat are moving to a condo to save money and so that Cathy can be near her aging parents. I feel bad for them, but the place is gorgeous!! I have told them to feel free to come over any time, whether we're home or not. I hope they take me seriously. I know that Pat will see me through the dying process, anyway.
One photo to end with: this was taken at Harkness in Waterford on Earth Day.
. . .
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