Sunday, November 11, 2007

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz........

Maybe I'm taking last week's bear costume too seriously. Or maybe it's "method" acting and I'm still working through the part. Or maybe it's just the last round of chemo that has let me appreciate the benefits of hibernation. While black bears (Ursis americanus) are not true hibernators, they do go into a state of near-suspended animation for sometimes as long as 100 days. They usually don't leave their dens, and do not eat, drink or poop (does a bear s*it in the woods? Nope, not during hibernation) for the entire time. They're well insulated with their dense fur and thick body fat (OK, you can stop drawing comparisons already), and may lose a substantial amount of weight during hibernation, as they metabolize stored fat reserves (I did lose about 4 pounds on my last weigh-in).



Yep, that last round of the "nuclear option" was quite a bit different than the first one. No skin rash whatsoever so far, but I have been really, really tired and thinking that hibernation seems like a pretty good lifestyle right now. I can't say that I'm getting a good night's sleep, but I do seem to sleep a lot when I can get a chance, and if given that chance, I'll take it.
I sleep in the van-pool to and from work, I nap when I get home from work and nap after dinner until it's time to go to bed. I'm hoping that this too will pass, or probably until I go back for another dose on Thursday. The complete lack of a skin rash (other than that amazing and constant itch) is a bit puzzling, and while I don't really want to get it, it has me wondering if the chemo is still working. I have a theory as to why the first round of the "nuclear option" was so severe - I had a dose of Erbitux the week before I started the double-dose. From past experience, I know that it takes a few weeks to get it out of my system, so I already had some still working on me when I got the first double-shot. Note to self: Next time, take a little break before ramping up the dosage.

I've been struggling with articulating my thoughts (and not just from chemo-brain) on my last visit for treatment. It was tough for me to come in after having my worst experience with side effects to date. But that's not what was so difficult about this particular visit. What made this visit more difficult was the emotional wear and tear that cancer causes has started to show a bit. The job of being a valiant cancer warrior eventually wears down patients and their families. Maybe it just seemed more noticeable this time. Life through the "cancer goggles" sucks.