Thursday, August 14, 2008

Chemo Brain

Yes, that's right. That's what you can get after awhile.

I didn't have a great week after R6D1. I had a couple of fevers, felt tired and weak, didn't have much appetite, and lost 5 lb. No one compliments you on your weight loss when you have cancer. Not that they should be. You want to hold onto your reserves as long as possible. I'm down ~30 lb. Thankfully I had some reserves.

Treatment today was OK. I asked the Dr. about cognitive issues. The other day I wrote out my full name and mispelled my middle name, Frances, with an i instead of an e. I was horrified. The Dr. laughed and I laughed as well. It was pretty funny, yet also concerning. Then he brought up the term 'chemo brain'. I've also noticed that I don't remember things very well and that I don't type as well anymore.

My hands/fingers shake a bit now. I'll be curious to have my MRI/neurology appt in Sept to see if my MS is progressing or if this is all due to PC/chemo.

We discussed my CA19-9 at the visit today. We are still going to wait to get a scan until after the next treatment. It could just be one tumor growing with nothing else moving. We will just have to wait and find out.

Michael and I had a 'talk and cry' night on Tuesday. We do have to confront our fears and it helps enhance our communication as we process things very differently from each other. I only got a couple of hours of sleep (it was too late to take an Ambien and get up for work). But, I slept good last night.

Hopefully my chemo brain is actually caused by chemo and nothing in my brain. There is always that chance. There is a chance that anything can happen. I can just muddle through it and try to keep a semi-intelligent wit about me.

Let me know how I'm doing.

2 comments:

Erik said...

It's tough to know what to say.

I don't want you to go through this--but personal desire doesn't factor into it. It sucks and it's not fair--but it is what it is.

Sometimes it feels like saying anything positive runs the risk of sounding condesending or in full denial of the situation. Yet, the last thing you need is more gloom and moping from us spectators.

Right now, the only thing I can say to you is that you're loved and not alone. I hope that helps to some degree.

...that, and hopefully your chemo brain won't keep you from enjoying my teasing.

From my point of view, you're a rock star. Even as things get more difficult, you shine through.

Anonymous said...

So... what does it mean if you forget how to spell your name without chemo brain?