I am no longer the perpetual motion machine of yore; my fourth and final round of carboplatin and alimta left me fatigued and with a profound lack of energy that I just can’t seem to shake. In two days I undergo maintenance infusion of alimta, and the hope is that it will be significantly easier minus the platinum.
The virus I have been fighting is beginning to take leave, but slowly; it is clearly one persistent bug. And, although I was pleased when I started chemotherapy that I did not immediately descend into a fog of confusion (as I had with cisplatin and taxotere) I can no longer deny that there has been a cognitive hit as well. I was once a bit sharper. To wit, today I put the kettle on to boil some water for tea, and then lay down for a nap. Fortunately David came downstairs in the nick of time, but I’m becoming somewhat of a menace.
So please, if you have emailed, written or called and I have not responded, understand that I may have simply forgotten. Yesterday Peter was streaming some music and I asked him for the name of the group. After he shared with me both song and artist I said “Got it” to which he responded (without a moment’s hesitation) “Yeah, right.” And he was—I retained neither.