Words I really don’t like: radiographs, pathology, osteosarcoma, chemotherapy, catheterize, carboplatin, and doxyrubicin.
Catie had her fourth chemo treatment last week, her second round of doxyrubicin. The after-effects of her first treatment were loss of appetite, lethargy, a little mushy poop. The side effects were similar this time but marginally more intense; she turned up her nose at almost every meal and walked away and her poops were significantly mushier and more urgent. She threw up several times yesterday, a miserable exercise which left her with a worried furrowed brow and very bad breath.
I say this with no hyperbole: I hate doxyrubicin.
She’s lost a lot of the feathering on her tail. I thought at first – and guilt stricken at my lapse in grooming – that she simply needed a good brushing; but no, there simply is no longer much to brush and her tail is just a spindly shadow of what it once was. There’s also much more gray threaded throughout her coat and the regrowth in the areas where she gets shaved for the IVs is very, very slow.
After a mildly anxious weekend, she was better today. She welcomed me home after work with limitless licking and panting and jumping before hop-running to the piano to muzzle the keys. Exactly where do these inexplicable and unexpected whole-being moments of delight come from?
Words I really like: possibility, pleasure, harmony, acceptance, and joy.
