Feeling great and mildly stupid

After intermittent suffering for five weeks, early yesterday a lightbulb went on. Ding! "You haven't used any Ambien for sleep this week. You didn't have any spells. There may be a correlation."

After poring over notes in my medical notebook, calendar markings, drug pickup dates, past emails that mentioned how I was feeling, and the more recent conscious tracking of good days and bad -- I am now 99-percent certain it was the Ambien causing the worst of the side effects. I stopped using Ambien on Wednesday, relying solely on the other two sleep aids, and the usual onset of side effects didn't happen.

Both brother and sister were around this week and both claimed it was their presence that took away my misery, but I wasn't buying it.

Even as I wrote my list of side effects for the blog, I was still waiting for the bad stuff to come. As one day followed another, I began to feel like a sham for reporting here what wasn't happening.

Now that I have everyone feeling sorry for me, I should like to update my list of symptoms to reflect recent changes to my drug regimen and resulting condition (and to seek opinions as to whether or not I should still have to see a neurologist on Thursday):

Very annoying – Intermittent throbbing headaches with marked sensation of facial tingling. It would seem to me these “spells” are obvious to others, though apparently they are not. Eyes feel gooey or foggy or like a gel’s been dropped into them.

Scariest – Speech slows and aphasia (word loss) worsens as concentration is off. In one instance, I needed to carefully think where my feet were and what walking involved; I knew I should not have attempted to drive my car. I wasn’t certain which side of the road I belonged on. Greg pointed out I was twenty miles an hour over the speed limit.

Most amazing – Feels like the top of my skull’s been sliced off (like a Halloween pumpkin) and my brain’s exposed to the air. A cool breeze wafts over my imaginary exposed brain.

Weirdest – Skin sensations of “rug burn” … or like I’ve skidded across the gym floor. Sometimes it’s a whole body skid, sometimes just up both shins, sometimes just an area on thighs, back or belly the size of my hand.

Druggy – All-over druggy feeling reminiscent of the three months of chemo experienced in 2007. Shaky, weak, sweaty palms and feet, butterfly stomach.

Minor – Heartburn/reflux. I do not usually experience this, but it is a common occurrence now after eating.

Slightly annoying – Dry mouth easily remedied with chewing gum, though I do not approve of chewing gum in public. I have now become that person I disapprove of.

Easiest to remedy – A quick swirl with a bacitracin-coated Q-tip does wonders to keep my nostrils comfortable. Without attention, the mucous membranes tend to dry and eventually bleed.

Ugliest – Vanity dictates swollen ankles and eyelids are both ugly and annoying. Ankles are stumpy, sure, but when eyelids ripple in folds over eyelashes, that’s unnecessary aging and cannot be tolerated.

Most predictable – Losing eyelashes and hair at an ever-increasing rate. Last time I went bald I purposely pulled my hair out one evening while reading. This time I’m being gentle. Every day with hair is another day with hair, though male-pattern baldness is increasingly difficult to cover up. Not having to shave one’s legs is a plus.

Moderately annoying – The still-seeping wound in the center of my torso, a circle roughly the size of a pencil in diameter. Various remedies have been tried for healing, but the recent addition of miraculous silicone bandages that seal in moisture, keep out the sting of salty sweat, and prevent the area from being stretched during movement, I’m seeing huge quality-of-life improvements in the open-sore department.

Somewhat concerning – Spikes of high blood pressure (in a person whose norm is low blood pressure). I suspect the blood-pressure spikes may be the cause of some of the above sensations. 'Am now armed with blood-pressure cuff for monitoring as instructed.

Soon I will have a follow-up CT scan for another look at the “indeterminate spot” on my rib to see whether chemo has caused any change.

Sleep is predictably controlled by juggling my three sleep aids throughout the week as steroids come and go.

Having said all that, I am now 60+ hours out from Monday’s treatment without a “spell.” So much for predictability, but I’m not complaining. Five chemo days down, thirteen to go.

Also, Oncology tells me none of my reported side effects match the norm for my chemo recipe. They are sending me to a neurologist next week Thursday.