It’s befuddling how the last couple of weeks of this process are supposed to be the tough weeks.  If therapy ends roughly mid-November, then the tough two weeks are, well, just about the entire month of November.  It’s also supposed to be tough for a couple of weeks after treatment stops, as the internal process keeps working.  So the first two weeks of Nov are the last two weeks of therapy and the last part of Nov should stay tough.  What is befuddling is that if November will be the tough time, what does that make now?

The last couple of days was riding a steep curve.  There is no way I can eat or drink anything by mouth now.  The huge tongue sore lies along the side right at the tooth line.  While the tongue is at rest they meet, and rub.  And when not eating or talking, the tongue is at rest.  And burn sores have also appeared at the back of the throat.  I’ve got to be hoping that since I’m receiving rad burn spill over on good parts of my neck, that it’s for sure hitting the mark and pelting señor tumor.

So everything is going down the gut port.  If I’m thirsty, which I am often, water in the gut port.  Tried calling the doctor (one of them) today to ask about prescriptions, but I could barely talk — not because of the voice box, only for the mouth pain.  Again, this is no pity party stuff and I’m not complaining.  I’m only documenting, and hey, I’ve got to be honest with myself.  After all, now is not the tough part, unless, as they’ve been saying, everyone reacts differently and for some reason I’m having a sensational early reaction.

My sister recently met a guy who went through the same process last year in Chicago, nine weeks of chemo/rad.  He did it all without a PEG tube.  I don’t know how he ever did it, except that one year later and he is still underweight.  So maybe it was trying.  I’m just grateful that every time I’m hungry or thirsty, I can whip out the feeding tube.  It’s become a well needed friend alright.

At least tomorrow I can pick up a new prescription of pain liquid which can be  dumped down the tube.  Took the pharmacy two days to get it — the wonderful world of controlled narcotics, here I come.

3 thoughts on “w3/d4

  1. swarrenjr

    Freddie: I trust the pain medication will provide you the relief you deserve–quickly and decisively, and that the radiation is pounding and pounding señor tumor, rather than simply pelting him. No pity party for Freddie? No friggin’ pity for señor “T”. No reason señor tumor should be any less uncomfortable than Freddie-s’getti-Oh. In fact, kick his ass, dude. We want you back in the saddle–no, that’s not the signature Hallmark Card, “Get well, get yourself back-in-the-saddle cowboy.” It’s kick this tumor’s ass and book a ride in the Park before the snow flurries make it too slippery. That saddle? Your saddle? Dude, that be the saddle Bicycling Magazine reviews and rates. That skinny-ass saddle for your bony little skinny ass that you perched on for 1000+ miles to get to that family reunion in Lancaster-Pee-Yay. Or ride up and back to CNBC–(and I do think Maria “the Money Honey” Bartoromo would come out for your autograph, Mr. Warior-dude.). I am starting a list for your “coming out party” since there’s no pity party. I think when you come outta this daily-bad-rad-funk, you recuperate, you buy Gladys a week at the Red Door, you then have your friends, family, and hangers-on-like-I bring the great chocolate, the great coffee, the great music and the great stories to your place for a “New York Minute”. Did I say, “Kick señor ‘T’ in the ass, and then keep kickin’ his ass?” Yes, “THAT simple” as your sister would say. But Freddie, an “T-ass kicker?” Freddie don’t need a ticket, jus’ find that tumor and haul off and kick it! So, I’m thinkin’ there are “Blog Police” and I am busted. Sorry. Maybe your firewall will filter this diatribe. If not, you will likely know I am one of many rooting for Freddie and thinking of Freddie and his battle. U R the Warrior. Yes U R. Would write more but I wanna work on the party list and think about bringing chocolate and coffee to the FSParty. OK, I will bring an enchilada too. Why? To metaphorically remind us, Freddie had-tah eat the whole enchilada (radiation + chemotherapy + “brown” + narcotics + magic gargle + laxatives/stool softeners) to ensure he’d kicked señor tumor’s fat ass. “Señor tumor: ‘bend over and kiss your ass goodbye’!!” Goodnight Freddie. “Live to fight another day?” No Dude, you be kickin’ very serious ass come Friday. XOXOXO mon.

  2. martha c. wood

    Kudos to you, Steve, for being honest. All this agony may be necessary to oust
    Freddie Spaghetti. I burned my spaghetti on purpose last night just to make
    a motherly point. I want in on that party that Stryker is planning.
    Love ya Steve. Mom


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