I came through round three of chemo very well, if anything, it went more smoothly than round two. I was lucky enough to avoid the fevers that sent me to the ER after my first two rounds. When I saw my oncologist last week he was impressed  by how well I am handling the chemo.  He says I’m a beast because I come through each round so strong.

My daughter Sia arrived yesterday and we are having a grand time. I’m finally getting to hear all about her freshman year in Utah in colorful detail not possible in our text messages and short phone conversations.   I am so grateful to feel well enough to enjoy her company.  I tire easily, I’m fatigued most of the time whether I’m active or not, but we both like cat naps, and I can enjoy outings and meals with her.  Hard to believe that at this time last year she was still in high school and living at home and I had no idea what medical adventures lay ahead of me. This week is a fine oasis before I go back to the hospital for round four on May 15th the day after Sia flies back to Salt Lake City for her summer job and classes.

The other side effect I’m experiencing, besides fatigue, is a mental aversion to the hospital and everything associated with my stays there.  My nausea is mostly well controlled by drugs while I am there but this time, since I left, any thoughts about my stay or the food I ate there make me feel queasy. It’s nausea in hindsight and is diminishing as my last stay recedes but may swell up again as anticipatory nausea before my next round. If it does I won’t be shy about taking the drugs my oncologist recommends if the methods I’m using acupuncture , herbs and homeopathy don’t do the trick.

When I got home after this latest round of chemo I went into hiding. This was a practical strategy to avoid any human borne microbes while my blood counts were dropping, but I also experienced a deep urge toward solitude. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Hearing my phone ring made me anxious. I didn’t want to return the call but I also didn’t want the caller to worry about me. What if I never wanted to re- engage with other people and decided to handle all correspondence by email?  What if my inner hermit given a chance at guilt free full expression enjoyed herself too much?

I believe this time around  I started using disconnection as a coping strategy while I was still in the hospital sharing a room and surrounded by nurses and doctors at all hours. It was a way to protect my privacy. I played the role of patient so I could cultivate the patience I would need to get though the long six days until release. The drugs aided the disconnection process but it still surprised me how long the disconnection lasted after the drugs stopped.

This turned out to be a temporary, but I think necessary phase.  I realized solitude fit my energy level. I noticed about a week and a half  after treatment stopped that I was starting to take an interest in my fellow humans again and even looked forward to communicating with them. My inner hermit has retreated to her cave until it is time for her to come out again and take care of me.   I’m learning that the  aftereffects of chemotherapy and hospital captivity are subtle, variable and hard to recognize until they have passed.

My roommate in the hospital was someone who was just diagnosed in January with two different types of leukemia and  she and her family were catapulted, literally overnight, into the weird and awful cancer world of long hospitalizations, tests and toxic treatments. When I was sharing a room with her she was in the first few days of preparing for a autologous stem cell transplant procedure.  She will be in  the hospital for a month or more and her own bone marrow along with her leukemia will be destroyed by chemotherapy before her own stem cells will be reintroduced and hopefully they will regenerate a healthy bone marrow and she will be cured.

So what do I remember most vividly about her? I remember a phone conversation she was having one evening with her tweenage daughter. They were on the phone for a long time discussing which sneakers her daughter should buy. They were both looking at the same website.

Should she get the yellow ones with the orange stripes? No, those were out of stock in her size. Wait, what about the ones with the blue stripes? No? How about those pink ones you showed me the other day?

I remember having long involved conversations with my daughter about similar dilemmas. This is the stuffing that fills our lives. This is the good stuff.