| Hair Situation | A nimbus of brown. If I were two weeks old, it would be cute. |
| Weight | Down 6 from normal |
| Symptoms | Clumsiness, absent-mindedness, and heartburn. Also some irrational exuberance due to the lack of a PICC line |
| Hair Situation | Very very patchy |
| Weight | Down 6 from normal |
| Symptoms | Fatigue, clumsiness, insomnia, absent-mindedness, and heartburn. And a partridge in a pear tree. |
| Hair Situation | Pretty darn thin. I can comb it back, without a part, and you don’t really see the bald patches, but then I look like Fonzie. I’m into serious hats now. |
| Weight | Down 6 from normal |
| Symptoms | Fatigue, heartburn |
| Hair Situation | Like Buffy’s roommate in “The Freshman”, but patchier |
| Weight | Down 6 from normal |
| Symptoms | Sore throat, appetite improving somewhat. “Personality enhancements” due to Prednisone, occasional chest pain. Fatigue and chemo brain (aka chemonesia) too. |
| Hair Situation | Noticeably thinner |
| Weight | Down 8 from normal |
| Symptoms | Sore throat, arm downgraded from sore to tender. Appetite improving somewhat. Some tingling in my toes. |
| Hair Situation | Pre-Delilah Samson |
| Weight | Down 5 from normal |
| Symptoms | General crankiness, slightly sore arm |
| Hair Situation | No changes |
| Weight | Down 7 from normal |
| Symptoms | A little dizzy. Appetite and energy level low. |
| Hair Situation | Same as it ever was |
| Weight | Down 3 from normal |
| Symptoms | Itchiness mostly gone. Random digestive symptoms, and my teeth feel like I just got my braces tightened. |
2/25/03: Now that I know I’m going with 8 weeks of Stanford V, it’s time to get started. Sheila explained how the treatment would go (alternating weeks of drugs - odd weeks are hard, and even weeks are easy. There are two weeks in the middle where I go for chemo two days in a row). I’ll also have a number of drugs to take at home, mostly to prevent problems with my digestion (food not staying down, or, to put it delicately, food refusing to come out). I’m to drink two liters of water a day, avoid supplemental calcium, take my anti-nausea medicine if needed (don’t mess around with home remedies like flat 7-up), and run, don’t walk, to the phone if my fever is ever over 100.5.
I have a dizzying array of pills to take, and most of them aren’t on the same schedule. I made an Excel spreadsheet for myself of what to take when, then Mike and my mom (both of whom had been at the meeting where Sheila explained it) checked it for me.
The “infusion room” (what am I, a teabag?) is in a separate part of the maze they call the Stanford Medical Center, so Sheila took my mom and me there. It looks like a set of big cubicles, each with theoretically enough space to give chemo to four patients at a time, but much more comfortable as two to a cubie. There are also warm blankets, drinks, and snacks for the patients.