Chemo day is still better than leg day

Full disclosure. I do not work out. Shocking, I know, when you gaze upon my stunning physique, but it's the truth.

I have always regarded exercise for the sake of exercising to be a colossal waste of time and energy.

And really, those muscle-bound freaks look, well... freaky.

That being said (I seem to be saying that a lot), I have, on occasion, attempted to exercise. Y'know, for my health. (Picture rolling eyes and an sarcastic snarl on my gob.)

Kevin Spacey said it best in American Beauty. " I want to look good naked."

It never really went well. I did not enjoy it and never saw any results.

OK, possibly true, if I had stuck with for more than a week or two that may have changed... the results part, not the enjoyment... but why force yourself to do something you despise with no measurable result.

I get there are lots of examples of things that could go in the same category... say work, albeit I would argue there is a measured result.  And I'm not talking about the satisfaction of a job well done or learning a new skill, or peer recognition. Screw that.

I'm talking about that increase, albeit temporarily, to my bank balance every week.

Now that's a measurable result I can get behind.

However, exercise is not the point of today's diatribe. To be honest, I highly doubt there is a point but more likely a series of barely-connected ramblings about things that I have noticed this past week or so.

It has been a week of ups and downs as I come to terms with how I am feeling and what is causing it.

There was a day last week where I felt fairly good. No pain. In fact, I didn't take pain meds all day. Normally I am sore. Joint or muscle pain and my back often aches. But not this day. It was wondrous. I felt like a young man again.

OK, not really, but I wasn't in an appreciable amount of pain, so I'll take it.

That was not to last.

The last couple of days have been a bit rough and I'm starting to think I have hit on a way to combat it.

Just fucking ignore it.

OK, it's not quite that simple. But that is part of it.

Focussing an what's wrong just makes you miserable and, by extension, you feel worse. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy. A vicious circle.

A vicious circle.

What I am starting to realize is that I feel worse on weekends. When I'm at home. When I don't have a routine.

If I immerse myself in something, work, writing my blog, or even playing a game... anything to take my mind off it... I do better.

It is becoming evident that forcing myself out of complacency is imperative to getting through this. It is all too easy to wallow in self-pity, which is never healthy, but currently it is verging on dangerous.

I believe I have mentioned that I am under strict orders not to lose weight. I imagine I could look at my last posts to confirm that but I'll be screwed if I'm putting that level of effort. So you will just have to trust me and if I didn't, we'll just say you forgot that I mentioned it.

I never imagined I'd be saying this, but it's harder than it seems.

The world's greatest nutritionist has told me to use higher fat milk (I'm up to 2% but I really only put it in my coffee), eat higher fat and calorie things (Like Greek yogurt instead of the stuff I normally eat).

Y'see, I have been watching my calorie level for quite some time. So much so, it's almost second nature unless I make a conscious decision to ignore it. So this is changing my buying habits when it comes to food.

The flip side of the coin is that I'm not eating as much which is something that bothers pretty much everyone.

I have always been one to put off eating if I was busy doing something (see previous comment about keeping busy) and often find myself suddenly starving.

The difference is, while I still get hungry, I can't eat as much. Whether it hurts to chew, or because the shit that's going on with my mouth, I literally have to force myself to eat. It really doesn't help the situation that all food is, at best, bland. The majority of joy I get out of eating has been taken away from me.

About my mouth.

I was warned that there could be several (side) effects of the type of cancer I have and the radiation treatment. Not the least of these are loss of taste, mouth sores, stiffness, and reduced mobility, and changes to saliva.

As mentioned, all things are now bland. Trying to entice flavour is a losing battle. Sure I can add more salt, or try some form of seasoning, but the result is generally the same.

For example, while writing this, I realized I was hungry and, in light of what I'd just penned, I stopped and got myself something to eat.

I decided to make scrambled eggs. I make really good scrambled eggs. I initially learned how to make them from my father as a child. I was the child, not my father. That would have just been weird.

I usually use a saucepan although a frying pan will also work. You start with a good bit of butter, a couple of ounces (I'm Canadian... somethings are still measured in imperial). Let it melt on medium -low heat... about 4. (And no, I do not what temperature that is.) While this is happening, crack 3 or 4 eggs (or more if you are feeding multiple people or just a bit of a piggy) into a bowl. Add a good pinch of salt (I use a sea salt for this) and your pepper of choice. I like to use white pepper as it adds some flavour without adding black flakes. It's more aesthetically pleasing.

Mix the eggs with a small whisk or a fork, if necessary. That is, if all you have is a fork, fine. It will do an adequate job, but a whisk is preferable. I imagine there are other implements that could do in a pinch, but that opens up a whole different topic.

Once the butter is just starting to bubble, pour the eggs into the saucepan and give them a quick stir. I like to use a rubber spatula as it contacts the pan much better than a spoon.

Keep stirring... not constantly, but regularly, moving to folding the cooked parts into the uncooked as you go along, until you have the desired consistency. I prefer them almost on the runny side.

Plate and eat.

Anyway, I cooked the scrambled eggs and they were pretty much perfect. Except there was very little taste. No richness from the butter and eggs. No hint of saltiness. Just the lingering taste of white pepper which I'm pretty sure was only there because I accidentally added too much.

I ate them so I now have food in my gullet and should be spared the wrath of the world's greatest nutritionist.

As it stands, I am maintaining my weight. "They" don't want me to lose weight and I do not wish to start packing on the pounds. So far that doesn't seem very likely so "they" appear to be getting their collective wish.

Fluids are another issue. I need to stay hydrated. So much so the expectations are actually rather daunting. The world's greatest nutritionist wants me to drink 2 litres of water (or equivalent) every day. Now, the good part here is that most liquids count. Sparkling water, coffee and tea as long as they are decaf, and other stuff. I don't remember if beer counts but I'm not really supposed to drink alcohol anyway.

The downside to this is constantly having to pee.

The majority of any added medications are given to me at the cancer center. Like the chemo drugs. I have some anti-nausea medication I have to take an hour before chemo and some others I can take as needed, but other than that, it's been a light load.

This brings me to yet another question. What moronic , overpaid executive picked the packaging for one of my medications? I mean seriously. A single pill in a box big enough for 24.

What's worse is you know this wasn't the work of a single deranged asshole. It had to go past a committee. And probably several layers of corporate approval.

They were all in on it the demented fucks!

You think I'm kidding? Have a look.

And you thought I was joking.

They do have me taking extra magnesium as, apparently that is low. It was also low when I was in hospital in February so I do not know if this is causal or something else. I guess I should probably ask. It was prescribed by my chemo doc. Initially it was twice a day but has been increased to 3 times a day. I do not know if this is something I should be concerned about and I have not looked into it. I'll let the experts worry about things like that.

Speaking of chemo, I was not aware there were cookies.

Seriously. During my past (second) chemo treatment, I heard a nurse ask another patient if they wanted cookies. Then I saw a guy wander around the corner and come back with a package of cookies for (presumably) the person he was with. The sheer audacity!

WTF? No one mentioned cookies to me. No one offered me cookies? Don't I deserve cookies? Does my plan not cover cookies?

This is bullshit and I will be looking into it further on Tuesday.

As next Tuesday was yesterday I can confirm the existence of cookies. I was also told I may help myself. They had Arrowroot and Digestive cookies. I don't mind either but I was really hoping for something in an oatmeal raisin or some such thing. Regardless, after thinking about, I did not eat the cookies as I was pretty sure that they would just end up like wallpaper paste (and probably taste similar) and virtually impossible for me swallow given the current start of my mouth.

Speaking of food, There was another incident at the world's worst Tim Horton's.

It was another multi-appointment day and I had a little time between appointments. I was peckish and decided a breakfast biscuit would do the trick. I waited patiently in the line, as person after person before me placed their order and dutifully stepped to the left into the sea of humanity waiting for their food and drink.

It wasn't a complicated order. I didn't even want a coffee. I just wanted a sausage and egg breakfast biscuit.

So I politely ordered one.

The young man looked at me blankly and without any emotion, said, "We are out of biscuits."

The swine.

How is this even possible? It's not like they are painstakingly made from scratch. They are mass-produced in Ontario or some other god-forsaken place, frozen, and trucked all over the country.

How the fuck can you run out?

Remember when Timmies used to bake everything in-house? I remember the job ads. One of the listed perks was all the doughnuts you can eat. Nowadays it's probably used as a punishment.

"You have been found to be derelict in your duties. As this is a first offence, we will either place a letter in your file or you must eat 2 Oilers doughnuts."

I was, obviously, gobsmacked. I was at a loss for a witty répartee. I simply muttered something like "Well that's fucking useless" and wandered off, heartbroken and desolate.

I want to tell you about spit.

Along with the dry-mouth comes the somewhat revolting changes to spit. It has become much thicker, more so resembling that bit of a an egg that always hangs onto the whisk (or rooster juice as my ex-wife used to call it) as opposed to anything you would expect to come from your mouth.

Now, to add to this unpleasantness, is an increased about of phlegm or sputum, if you prefer. I do not.

The end result is the desire, nay need, to spit out great gobs of snot-like substance with alarming regularity.

What is more disconcerting is that there is rarely any warning. You simply just gotta.

And no, swallowing is not a work-around. Oh sure, you might get away with it once in a while, but trust me, the shit remembers and it becomes bound and determined not to allow you get away with that shit again.

It is basically self-actualized snot on a mission from hell. It is vindictive mucus.

The end result of all this is that my life has changed. And I would say not for the better, but it is manageable.

I need to keep focussed, and busy, and hope there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

And that's not a train racing head-long towards me.

All good things.

S