Random Thoughts for Thursday

While I totally appreciate the honesty and wouldn't want anything different, I have to admit that it's a little disconcerting to be greeted in the morning with "Geez, you look terrible. You should go home."

This evening was my last dose of Xeloda for this cycle, and since I'm skipping the next one due to the accumulated magnitude of the side effects and the impending Spanish leg of the GCW Tour, that means I'm now on at least a five week -- and possibly six week -- vacation from toxic chemicals. As the preachers say, "Can I get an amen?" (Amen.) 

We are now seventeen days (!) from the Spanish leg of the GCW Tour. If the universe cares for me at all, seventeen days without Xeloda will be enough time for my body to recover to the point that a) I can walk more than three blocks without looking like I'm doing an impression of my grandmother,* and b) I can stay awake for at least sixteen hours consecutively.** 

If the universe loves me, seventeen days will also be enough time for my body fluids to get in the habit of staying where they belong rather than oozing, dripping, pouring or exploding into the outside world. I remember enough high school Spanish to ask, "Dónde está el baño?," but I'm not sure I remember enough to understand the directions when they're given. I'd really prefer that finding one not be an emergency. 

The procedure to replace my chest port has been scheduled for Tuesday. If replacing one is the same as inserting one, it'll be a pretty minor thing that doesn't even involve anesthetic. But at the same time, they're still cutting me open. Three surgeries in less than a year is three more than I ever would've expected. 

Speaking of surgeries, I heard on the radio this morning that the hospital where I got my hemicolectomy was involved in a mess of law suits and countersuits relating to infections caused by an instrument that wasn't properly sterilized. I didn't catch all of the details, but apparently some forty patients caught a terrible infection from this device, and something like eighteen of them died. So now patients are suing the hospital and the device manufacturer, the hospital is suing the manufacturer, and the manufacturer is suing the hospital. Ugly. As I wrote when I started this blog, being in the hospital can kill you. I'm sorry to hear that this was the case for so many people where I got such good care, but I'm very glad I dodged that particular bullet. 

And at risk of sounding callous after that last paragraph, did I mention that there are just seventeen days until The GCW Tour: Spain & Morocco begins? Woohoo!


* My grandmother was a very lovely woman who suffered debilitating arthritis for as long as I knew her. To borrow a phrase from Big Hero 6, she was not fast -- and at this point, neither am I. 
** Currently, ten is pushing it.