Had 2nd chemo Thursday. Was out and about on Friday and felt okay, strangely. Went out to dinner on Saturday night and ate a huge meal. Felt fine. But after that I’d been feeling progressively worse each day. Nauseous and unable to eat much.
I think I’ve eaten about 3,000 calories this whole week, of which I think 1,500 was that meal I had at Sunflower Saturday night – a delicious Vietnamese vegetable curry. (Note to self: don’t accept free Vietnamese iced tea after 9 pm. I was up literally all night. That was the most caffeine I have consumed in two months. I think the Vietnamese call it liquid meth.)
I burned off those 1,500 calories at the Alameda Flea Market on Sunday. For those of you who don’t know, the Alameda Flea is held the first Sunday of every month on the grounds of the old Alameda Naval Air Station. It covers a full two-and-a-half acres, and everything sold there must be at least 25 years old. It is a treasure trove of wonders and delights, and going there is one of my favorite things to do. This is evident in the household full of objects I have purchased there, from 100-year old lithograph print of a church (a church that I later accidentally stumbled upon in Paris with Barbara Caldwell) and the art deco pewter ashtray nymph on my mantelpiece to the lucite-encased ticket to the 1892 Chicago World’s Fair, a gift from my son Dillon. The most bizarre thing I’ve bought there is a set of half-melted copper and latex antique baby dollhead molds. They have been banished to a box somewhere due to the horror and dismay they cause anyone who looks upon them.
Strangely, this was the first day I went to the Alameda Flea and didn’t buy something. Kaki and I were looking for a desk, and although we found one we loved, it was being wheeled out the gate by the person who had bought it. I guess the reason I didn’t buy anything is I was so focused on looking for the desk, not because I haven’t been purchasing things. The future is mine and I shall not sway from buying something because of a fear that tomorrow may not come.
This belief was borne out by the beautiful art deco desk Kaki and I found on craigslist (that’s ‘classifieds’ to you 20th century folks) two days later. And it was less expensive than the one art the market.
So I started feeling worse late Sunday, and it got worse with each passing day. It peaked (or bottomed out) on Thursday. No appetite and lots of nausea. I feel like I’m still losing weight.
A dear friend who shall remain nameless (whose name starts with an ‘M’ and ends with an ‘E’ and sounds like something you sing into) brought me some traditional medicinal herbs to help me deal with the nausea and lack of appetite. Additional note to self: Like Vietnamese iced tea, this should not be imbibed after 9 pm. I found myself self-exiled to the couch, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the sounds of someone breaking into my house. Turns out it was the wind and my imagination jimmying the lock.
Apparently this was due to the strain of herb, and I have been assured by another dear friend in Mendocino County (whose name starts with an ‘S’ and ends with an ‘E’ and rhymes with the part of the shirt that covers your arm) that the next strain will do the trick without causing Vietnamese Tea Syndrome. It’s great having so many friends so well versed in the traditional Native American healing arts.
Starting on Friday, I’ve been feeling incrementally better each day.