Infusion 5

I've noticed that when I floss my teeth in the evening, there's an unusual smell on the floss. I assumed it was my overly sensitive nose and loss of taste that made things wonky. But while I was recently tending to an infected blister on my toe, I noticed the same scent on my finger after I had touched the area. It's the chemicals from the chemo that I smell. I'm completely saturated, pickled in it.

The scent is fishy and tinny, like an empty tuna can that has been left in the recycling bin. And now I notice it everywhere. On my breath in the morning, on my pillow, on my underwear when I pull down my pants to go pee, on my clothes after I perspire.  I'm constantly doing laundry to get rid of it. I've been scrubbing my body in the shower with a loofah and soaking in epsom salts to be free of it. But I need to accept my new scent. It's the medicine doing it's work. I need to love this smell because its going to lengthen my life. This is difficult to do.

Two weeks ago I had my fifth infusion. It's the new drug cocktail of Carboplatin and Taxol. I was fearful of how it would make me feel, but it turns out to be much easier than the Red Devil. I'm now realizing how much of a complete fucker that Red Devil actually was. The nurses had to administer it by hand in a syringe so they could monitor my reaction and slow the medication based on how I felt. When the Red Devil entered my system, it felt like liquid mercury seeping into my stomach. Saltines and graham crackers were always a necessity.

Ironically, Carboplatin is a heavy metal but it's a cakewalk compared to the Red Devil. I hope it continues to be so easy. My oncologist and the nurses keep warning me that these infusions are culmulative and I'll become increasingly fatigued. Right now, I have a burst of energy and am feeling much better now that the Red Devil is behind me.

And a lovely gift of a homemade foot soak to help those blisters on my toes doesn't hurt either.