FOLFOX #2 , Charlie Chaplin, Orville Redenbacher, Eric Clapton and dead baby chickens

I'm channeling Charlie Chaplan, sound like Orville Redenbacher, listening to Eric Clapton and it tastes like dead baby chickens.


Just to start things out right, I will report that I did again have a reaction to the oxy eventhough pre-meded. Only this time, it got noon o’clock and everyone comes over to me and checks on me. My nurse says “looks she’s almost half way done. Everyone can go to lunch”. Well, wouldn’t you know it, 10 minutes later with only one nurse on duty, there I go. Sheesh. It wasn’t as bad as the first time but, same thing … just a little milder and it only took one 25mg benadryl shot and another try to get me through this time. But, worse part was I felt so bad. The lady across from me was there with her daughter and was going through one of those cry at the drop of a hat days … and then I went and scared the s**t out of her. She was sobbing so bad on the phone to her hubby, I felt just horrible. Maybe they should lock me in a closet for infusions???? She said, “ I thought you were going to die, you lost all your color so fast”. I just told her, aaaaah that was a mild one. I’m ok. So who knows what the onc is going to say next week. I’m going to suggest that I premed the night before too and slow down the drip some more. I think I’m at about 4.5 hours right now, might need to do 6 hours.

So, here goes the rest of the story. I have a friend who stops over to check on me and he dropped in yesterday morning. He’s a classic rock kinda guy so he turns on the stereo and Eric Clapton is singing “Oh my darling, you look wonderful tonight”

hahahahahaha

Enter not foxy but, …. FOLFOXY me … … Here I am trying to stay warm in a big old baggy a white sweatshirt that I cut down the front of my port so that I can wear it with my pump, baggy white sweatpants, carrying my black pump bag over my shoulder, with black socks and black gloves on. I am walking across the tile floors on the balls of my feet like Charlie Chaplan because this time the oxy worked it’s way to a third of my foot instead of just my toes. I have my hands out like a mime because everything was shocking my fingers. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how funny I looked until I shuffled in front of the sliding glass door and caught my reflection. OMG!! With all the static electricicty in the air my hair was standing on end too. SCAREY! “Oh my darling, you look wonderful tonight” … Thanks Clapton.

So, my friend, insisting that I eat decides to make me some scrambled eggs with ham and cheese. I say, you know, I’m not sure I can eat anything … but, I agreed to just so I didn’t hurt his feelings. As I sat down to eat, I talked myself into how good this would taste … one bite … ugh … rough swallow … ugh. “Hey, how is it?” he asks. Ha! “It tastes like dead baby chickens!” … thank goodness he just laughed and said, “Maybe because that’s what it is”.

Here’s a fun side note on the FOLFOX this round. I woke myself up in the middle of the night and there was this strange sound. Like popcorn popping. Oh no … wait … popcorn in my pants? No … the chemo caused such bad constipation this time that my stoma was spitting popcorn sized pellets out and it was hitting against my bag … My first thought was oh boy, Orville Redenbacher would be proud of me!

So there you go … Charlie Chaplin, Orville Redenbacher, Eric Clapton and dead baby chickens. Kinda scarey the way my mind works isn’t it?? So, round 2 and disconnected. Woo hoo! Excuse me if I go throw up now.
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