Back to the battle for Richard’s throat, tongue, sinuses, and mouth. I watch The Military Channel on occasion – great planes/dogfights, great commanders, and general history. I imagine now a map of my mouth and throat, with perhaps the tongue playing the part of a pliable river. We see the enemy entrenched at the base of the tongue, forward units in the lymph nodes. The enemy is brilliant on the level of the cell, but its strategy is straightforward. And ongoing. My forces are chemo now with the radiation units saddled up and ready for the next stage. The three types of chemo show its’ assault with a different color wave, maybe even a flag standing by each. All three do their job, all three pincer the growths. They have the bad guys in the lymph nodes on the run. The battle for the base of the tongue is in its planning; the radiation commanders drill their troops.
In every battle, there is collateral damage.
I’m dealing with at least three kinds of mouth pain: sores on the lips, cheeks, and other soft tissues; sores on the gums among my teeth; sores on and under my tongue. The sores have a few challenges. There is general pain. There is pain from trauma - even a direct hit by a blueberry skin is no fun. Then there is pain from muscular activity – as in swallowing, talking, and swallowing. The sores on the tongue seem to affect long tissue, the strings that make movement. When they hurt, it’s no fun.
I eat a soft diet (scrambled eggs, cream of wheat, hummus, soy yogurt, etc.), but even soft is painful on the tongue. [Note: I now understand the difference in sensation from my throat and tongue. Who’d’a guessed it?] I drink gentle fluids but even a dime of saliva can hurt to swallow (let’s not go into spitting - believe me, it’s no fun!)
So the primary drug of treatment is Percodet. At its best, I can eat and drink comfortably. At its worst, I eat and pound my fist into my thigh (mature, huh? hey – all those hours on the bike are worth something!) I use Magic Mouthwash topically in between pills, do my rinses, etc. but Percocet makes the difference whether or nor I can eat. However,
When I’m blue, the Percocet makes me feel ok.
When I’m green, the Percocet makes me feel ok.
When my mouth stops hurting and I stop the Percocet, I still feel blue and green. Time to buck up and nap, ride, write, read my way through the blues and greens.
Sometimes good side effects are bad. No problems here. Awareness. Use the drug as it intended. It is a tool. I don’t want my chemo soldiers running through the streets in a daze. Except for the victory lap several months from now.
One more lesson cancer has to teach.
I will need a feeding tube for radiation therapy (oh, joy!) Once the frontal assault on the primary tumor (or Mother Ship) begins, swallowing will become very difficult, though it will be important that I keep the muscles working. Chipped ice, I’m guessing. For now, I need to keep the swallowing apparatus functioning full tilt no boogie.
I haven’t said this often enough or LOUD enough. Ann is a real rock through all this. I’m going to have my bad days and off moods. Ann knows what to say, when I need a buck-up, when I need to rest. She knows me better than I do. Isn’t that love? She makes me scrambled eggbeaters whenever I ask. She reads me and fills in the gaps. I can’t imagine going through this without her. I can’t image going through anything with her. I love her. She’s my best friend.
I live in now, day to day, hour to hour. I can’t let myself go out farther, not even to next week; that may lead to Overwhelming Street, a neighborhood I must avoid.
Onward Cancer Soldiers!
Love…
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