Well, a moment ago I was perusing the Cancer tome, dressed casually in levis and a dark blue, USU Aggie polo shirt when I glanced down at the shirt. I was reading and enjoying the full sunlight our great room provides at this time of year. It was very good lighting and it seemed to have illuminated a number of silver/white hairs on the shirt about the length of the bristles on a toothbrush. And, for a moment, I vaguely wondered whether my toothbrush was falling apart. But, no. They are obviously mine. And this after one treatment? When Lisa was up this past weekend, we did another (futile?) exercise in my waning control over events. I asked her to put on the #2 guard on the hair trimmer, got naked, and we went out on the back patio, where I was sheared (and photographed by Jan--those babies aren't going anywhere!) like a sheep. Well, not really. We stuck to head only. The result wasn't too bad. Same old dude under there. And it wasn't that big a step having taken some of it off at my last haircut. But this seems a little quick, n'est-ce pas? I had been told by the third treatment. Or was it the third week? The latter computes, but is not what I think I remember. Oh well, once again belaboring the point, academically. (What did you expect?)
You can see that we have learned how to add pix to the blog, This is the pic that is in the Profile section, if any of you looked there. It is a ringer in terms of current time and my condition as it was taken by Jan during our trip in Spring 2007 to Spain. We'll consider it the baseline photo, from which we can look at progress/deterioration/whatever in my physiognomy. And we'll add the two others--half shorn, and pretty full shorn--in forthcoming posts, to be followed by the baldy, which maybe will be faster than I thought.
I seem to have gotten the first of probably many little opportunistic infections that will probably come my way in the next few months. And the "rad do" may be partially responsible. I am very susceptible to facial (and now head) neuralgia produced by wafting winds across my pate. Our open window at night has been followed this past couple of nights by excruciating awakenings in which my sinuses are protesting. A hot shower, a couple aspirin and the day goes by okay, with only the occasional shot of sinus pain. In turn, my CPAP machine which forces air into my lungs at night--another story--may also be contributing. But I am hooked on that thing for sleep. I think maybe the cold sores, and the sinus pains are all of a piece: a good old upper respiratory infection that was lurking and ready to bloom at the merest nod of the immune system.
But this is all very picky stuff. One of the reasons I have been silent of late is that there is really nothing to write about. To me that is incredibly positive. It has been a great week so far. Really, if all six cycles of the chemo have weeks two and three in which I feel like I do this week. I will be a happy camper.
Portion control? We don't need no stinkin' portion control! Cancel everything I wrote in the last post about a nice, controlled weight loss through all of this. My appetite this week will not be denied and I am not denying it. So, no more weight records until the forthcoming infusion on Monday next. At that point we'll see where we are. Until then, this dude is partying on.
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