Laundry List

My nose is bleeding. It has bled every morning, afternoon, and evening for days and days. It's so ordinary now that I sometimes forget about the crumbled, red, tissues until I see someone coming. Then I gather them quickly.

My nose bleeds and my mouth is metallic. It tastes like I'm sucking on dirty pennies. I can't taste salt, which seriously hampers my ability to enjoy salami. Ever tasted unsalted bacon? It's no treat.

My eyelashes are gone, and I never made a single wish. My eyebrows are making a noble last stand. I bought an eyebrow pencil and figured out how to use it. It makes me look more "normal", but I always forget to draw them on before I leave the house. I've never had to "put on my face" before walking outside, and I won't start now. What a life that would be!

My left arm and hand and fingers are swollen. Could be lymphedema, could be a blood clot, could mean more cancer in my lymph nodes. Ultrasound to follow. We shall see.

My fingers are blistered, but not as badly as before.

The skin on my hands breaks easily. I cut my tongue on toasted bagels and normal chewing can grate the inside of my cheek.

I don't heal very well (blisters aside). The incision from my port has not healed completely yet, and that surgery took place five months ago. Avastin inhibits the growth of blood vessels, which stunts the growth of those vascular-rich cancerous tumours, and other kinds o' growth & healing as well.

It's all small potatoes, but when added together it becomes a kind of constant, buzzing, discomfort.

It's better than the bone pain I had before I started Taxol. It's better than cancer-running-rampant-and-unchecked. Progression of this disease is inevitable, but later is better than sooner, given this array of side effects.

Eric makes me hot chocolate and brings me ice packs. He's smiling right now. He's laughing because he was looking on the table for a napkin on which he'd drawn a heart and written "I love you". He was going to hold it up to show me just now, but I'd already used it for one of my bloody noses. That made us laugh.

All of the stuff I write about love and happiness and fun is true, and co-exists with all of the discomfort I describe above. Life is good. Could be better, though.