Sunday—the second full day after Friday’s chemo and immunotherapy session—was, quite simply, a lost day.

Air Infusion—my attempt to reframe a five-to-six-hour chemo session as an imaginary flight between Hawaii and the West Coast—hit a patch of severe turbulence that dominated the entire day.

Dizzy. Dazed. Lightheaded. Foggy. Unsteady. Spacey. Distracted. I’m not sure how to capture all the elements, but you get the idea. It was my first experience with a more serious level of side effects, which didn’t make for a pleasant Sunday.

Through most of the day, my head was spinning and I felt unsteady, unable to trust my balance and feeling vulnerable to a fall. Seeking refuge, I eased myself into a nearby chair, expecting the sensation to pass. It didn’t. Even sitting, I didn’t feel grounded.

I’ve grown accustomed to a persistent 15% fog, but this was the first time it took over completely—no longer just a thin layer, but a deep pool I was floating in all day.

I was still able to function to some extent, getting around the house by being extra cautious in keeping feet and head going in the same direction, accessing my digital world, managing basic tasks like getting snacks and keeping fluids flowing for basic hydration, even seeing moments of good light and grabbing a camera for a few cat pics.

I knew it would be unsafe to drive, so we spent the day at home. I had at least a couple of short naps, rested while checking email, did some light background research for future blog posts. I cooked dinner, fed the cats. But no heavy lifting, mental or physical.

It’s now Monday morning. I made a pot of coffee, fed the cats, have one of the cat wter fountains recharging on the kitchen counter, and I’ve finished a bowl of cereal with a glass of low-sodium V8.

Hopefully we’ll be able to venture out today for a drive to our vet in Hawaii Kai to replenish the cat food reserves, with a stop at Safeway for cat litter. I’m hoping that doesn’t prove overly ambitious.

[I asked Google’s Gemini AI to create a color cross-hatch drawing from a selfie taken yesterday at the beginning of my chemo session. ChatGPT did not produce a successful result given the same instructions.]

I intend to update this post throughout Saturday, my first day follwing Friday’s chemo treatment.

The most recent update will appear at the top. Read down to toward the bottom to get the whole story, if you’re interested.

Saturday, July 25, 8 a.m. to 8 p.m.

Well, the day passed and I experienced no new side effects. There could still be more ahead as the drugs continue towards their maximum bodily impact, but for now it’s been more of the same.

I managed to make it through a $115 trip through the aisles of Times Supermarket in Kahala. I was masked up through as we traipsed through the aisles picking up items for the next week. Their supply of Taro Brand poi was gone, although as I recall the delivery day is Friday. I’m still several days away from eating through my supply, but I prefer to have some backup as I finish the bowl I’m working on

That was our only out of the house activity of the day. I worked on o couple of planned future posts that required additional background research, although haven’t finished anything yet scheduled to appear tomorrow (Sunday). Worked hard on hydration, and downed a mid-afternoon protein shake as well. We had leftover Costco ribs for dinner, with fresh grilled corn. I grilled a few baby red potatoes for Meda, while I had a bowl of poi. After dinner, a small bowl of ice cream that was part of the Times run.

I did end the day with the impression that the layer of lightheadedness (or dizziness) increases for a time after good meal. If I’m able to confirm that impression, I wonder what that means in the scheme of things?

Unless I start feeling worse overnight, we were planning an early breakfast at the Elks Club at the foot of Diamond Head Sunday morning. But the I got word that the Elks will be closed this morningn because Kalakaua Avenue is closed for a triathalon finish. So I’ll cook breakfast, and sometime later we will take a drive to get backup cat food. Otherwise, it’s another stay-at-home day primirily resting.

And I’ll be hoping to continue sidestepping any substantial side effects. But only time will tell.

After completing the post, I went scurrying to find the origin of that last phrase, and found this online at Phrase Finder.

The precise age of the proverb ‘Time will tell’ or ‘Only time will tell’ is difficult to determine because the written evidence of it is rather thin on the ground. However, it does appear to date back many centuries, possibly to the 1500s.

Both phrases are used to say that it is hard to predict the future or how a plan or strategy might pan out, and that sometimes, when there is an element of uncertainty about how things will go or how things will play out, we will have to wait ,and as time passes, the circumstances or situation will become more clear.

It’s often useful to employ this line of thinking when you are carrying out a ‘Trial and error’ strategy. Or in other words, when you try one strategy first and see how that affects things, before reacting accordingly, and tweaking the strategy as needs arise.

It is a universal sentiment, and it crops up in several cultures and languages all over the world.

Saturday, July 25, 3-8 a.m.

I awoke a few minutes before 3 a.m. with what felt like the creeping start of a dehydration headache. So I sat up, waited, then got to my feet and came out to the kitchen for a glass of Gatorade.

I opened my laptop as I sipped my way through the Gatorade. The cloying flavor of artificial flavoring makes imbibing a chore. But not unpleasant enough to forgo altogher. An hour later, I had done the first pass through email, deleting the 90% that required no more than a glance at the title/sender to know it wasn’t something I needed to see. Started on a post for the day, including coaxing Google’s Gemini to create the drawing featured in this post. Then I turned off the lights and went back to bed. It was just a few minutes after 4.

And I slept soundly until about 5:45, when I had to get up in order to take out any trash to guarantee I wouldn’t miss an early city pickup, which might come anytime between 6 a.m. and 4 p.m.

Continue reading →

I start Round 2 of chemotherapy/immunotherapy this morning. I don’t feel overly stressed about the prospect of continuing it over at keast the next several months. The infusion experience has not been unpleasant, and I haven’t experienced the kind of severe side effects that you hear so much about.

I’ve previously noted disrupted sleep since starting chemo almost a month ago. I wake up from a dream that weighs on me, so I get out of bed and spend a little time awake reading mail or news or whatever. That continues.

But it’s taken me this long to realize how many stressful dreams involve chemotherapy in one way or the other.

Some of these are kind of obsessive. I’m looking at some kind of printout of chemo results. And I’m unsuccessfully trying to make sense of what it shows, repeatedly going through the same futile attemps. Yes, I know, that doesn’t happen. But it creaps into my dreamworld.

I another dream, repeated a couple of times, I’m looking at what appear to be three small, fancy pastries. But I’m told these are part of the chemo regimen, and I’m supposed to choose which one I want. In the dream, I’m visualizing taking these apart, layer by layer, to see what’s in them in an attempt to inform my choice. It doesn’t go well. The dream always ends in frustration.

I have to start paying closer attention and writing down those fleeting memories immediately after escaping from one of these dreams.

Interestingly, none of these dreams includes realities as I’ve experienced them, few of which have been bad. I guess that means its the unknown that is nagging at me.

Getting out the other side of these frustrating dreams will make it easier to get more rest, which is sorely needed.

It’s Thursday morning. On Tuesday, I did too much and hit the wall hard, ending the evening without a drop of energy in reserve.

Wednesday was a blur. I didn’t do much at all. The only time out of the house was driving Meda to an eye exam. I stayed in the car and slept while she was getting her eyes dilated and examined. Her results were good, and I got a bit more sleep.

Except when eating a few small meals, and trying to stay hydrated, I spent much of Wednesday in bed.

Not reading. Sleeping.

Get up. Drink a glass of something. Check email. Assess the recovery. Consider a snack. Still no energy. Back to bed. Repeat.

Instead of recharging overnight, it took two full nights and an entire lost Wednesday just to crawl back to the “new normal.”

Another chemo lesson learned.