October 14, 2007
Yesterday morning brought a new experience with possible side effects of Vidaza. At dawn, when I tried to get out of bed, the room around me began to spin with great intensity and speed. I felt as though I had become centered in a vortex, and squeezing my eyes shut, then re-opening them had no effect. Powerful nausea joined the spinning and I lay back down as still as possible. I consumed the anti-nausea pill (Zofran) and waited. . . the spinning abated after a bit, leaving me unsteady with a head feeling as though it was stuffed with wet cotton. When we called the Oncologist’s office, the doctor on duty told us to go to the hospital in Lincoln and get checked out saying that sometimes a sudden drop in blood pressure might bring on such symptoms. When we got to the hospital, all my vital signs were normal, but I didn’t look or feel too well, so I was sent home without the scheduled Vidaza treatment. The day was one in which I was glad that I didn’t have to lead dancing, or cook, or clean, or do anything. This morning, I felt better, and Heidi came out in order to drive me to the Specialty Clinic at the hospital in Lincoln to resume the therapy. (Charles was at church playing for services.) Though we always ask, the answers are never definitive: yes, it is possible that this is a side effect of Vidaza, or yes, it might have been a peculiar version of the flu, and yes, it could happen again tomorrow. I reflect on how one adjusts to present reality – at first, I was stunned to have mouth sores and loss of taste, or intense itching, aching, stomach cramps, etc., yet, as the seven days of chemotherapy would come and go, these would also pass. This seems worse because it is messing with my head, and that feels more personal somehow. I have two more days of injections so we will see what transpires.
Though Alphie has been a fine creature in recent days, last week, he showed up as Alphie Other Dog. I was in morning mode, brushing teeth and such, and he stealthily pushed open the bathroom closet louver door behind which was stacked a treasure trove of extra thick toilet paper rolls. He very quietly removed not one, but four of these and took them around the corner to the bedroom and the stairwell and commenced to create an appalling volume of doggie chunks of toilet paper confetti. When I stepped out of the bathroom ready for my day, I couldn’t believe my eyes – it looked as though we had a snowstorm right there in the house. Of course, I yelled at him, and scolded him loudly as I gathered up the remains, but even while looking somewhat contrite, he was eyeing the louver door with longing – it likely was a more exciting morning than any he’d had for quite some time.