Shit hits fan

So yes, maybe I'm one of the lucky ones, but that apparently doesn't translate to a "get out of jail free" card throughout chemotherapy.

Yesterday at dawn I woke up from a very pleasant sleep, toddled to the bathroom, climbed back in bed--and was hit by a wave of nausea that threatened to send me running back to said bathroom with great urgency. I sat up, and my stomach settled a bit, but clearly I wasn't going to be able to go back to that pleasant sleep.

After popping a nausea pill, I went downstairs to the couch, where I could prop myself into a seated position and go to sleep. That worked for the next several hours, actually, punctuated by a trip to the medicine cabinet for the backup nausea pill, called for when the first one can't do the job alone. Noah came downstairs in the AM and I "got up," which means I began hanging out on the couch awake for the day. And that's pretty much all I did--watched TV, played on the computer, read mindless things, and sat there mostly-upright, vigilantly attending to my vestibular system, taking pills as soon as the required 4 or 6 hours had passed, and trying not to feel too lousy. In fact, I never had to pray to the porcelain gods, so I still think this was milder than it could have been. But I felt like crap all day. By nighttime, the nausea was under control and I went to sleep in bed again. And slept all night--aaahhhh. Today the tum is OK again.

But then there's issue #2. On Wednesday, when I washed and brushed my hair, the usual few strands that come out in fingers and brush had noticeably multiplied. It was pretty clear that The Hair Loss had begun. But the loss rate was small enough that I did nothing. Yesterday, the hair was coming out more seriously, but still not so much that it seemed time to shave it. I didn't wash it (yuck, I know) and stuck it in a ponytail, so that any loosening hairs would be caught by the band.

Today I got in the shower and wet my hair, and when I pulled my fingers through, I came up with something well beyond "strands" of hair--something approaching a "lock" of hair. Argh. After the shower (still didn't wash it--that would have been like a massacre, I think), I put all my hair in a ponytail and Noah helped me cut the ponytail off. Then he straightened all the ends for me. Now I am sitting here with about ear-length hair, feeling it dry and lift from my scalp, feeling little strands blow softly. It's a very pleasant feeling. I'm trying to soak it all up, because I suspect that by the end of today--at very latest, tomorrow--we will have to pull out the razor and buzz it all off. That will be depressing. It's already a little sad.

The consequences of the cure--I dodge them a bit, but ultimately I have to face them. And the last couple of days, I've had to face a little more.