I did promise in a recent (ahem, "recent" being a relative term) post to post more often...and so here I am.
I don't have a damned thing to say, really, but since when does that matter?
I am having one seriously crappy-ass day, how-I'm-feeling-wise, which I have thus far avoided mentioning to my husband, but which he will undoubtedly now find out about, seeing as how I've chosen to start making noise in the form of typing in an otherwise fairly quiet (if you ignore the tv, his snoring, and assorted dog-related noises, in order of volume level) room and thought that blogging about how crappy I feel might make me feel better...and so here I am.
So far today, I've tried to make myself feel better by laying in bed, watching tv, attempting to sleep, reading magazines, attempting to sleep, finally sleeping, watching more tv, and most recently, reading a Dave Barry book on my Kindle that has resulted in the kind of hysterical giggle fits that are entirely incomprehensible by people who don't quite appreciate Dave Barry on the level that I do and have actually woken (wakened? awoke? awake-i-fied? I have no idea, it's late) my snoring husband AND at least two out of three dogs more than once, which was a great but not perfect distraction...and so here I am.
I think it's actually only been the last half hour or so that I've realized that the entire problem with the day has been that I've been feeling so crappy...and that THAT would be the reason for "The Smell."
For those of you not acquainted with me, my blog, cancer, or all of the above, here's where I issue the mandatory disclaimer that what you're about to read definitely falls under what most people would call "TMI." For the rest of you, you're beyond being shocked at this point.
Ok, see, there was that day back a few months ago, don't ask me what month it was, but it must have been right near Easter because the kids were on a school break and the weather was atrocious, in the rain and wind shaking the house kind of way, when I spent two full days in utter misery before hitting the ER for many hours. Remember that? I sort of do. Anyway, one of the worst parts of that day, for ME, was The Smell. The Smell was coming FROM me. I was positive of this. Now, the good thing is, *I* was the only one who could smell it. I found this pretty unbelievable, really, like my darling husband was just trying to make me feel better - but Aimee swore she couldn't smell it either, and she's under oath never to say things just to make me feel better. A really severe oath.
So, in theory, no one else could smell this hellacious odor that was making me want to claw my eyes out, kind of like meth users do when they feel those invisible bugs on their skin. Foul, foul, foul....and I couldn't figure it out, except at the time, I'd been in the same pjs in the same bed on the same sheets for two days, and figured it was definitely sweat-based, like I was extruding chemo through my skin or something. Not a bad theory, right?
The first thing I did when I got home from the ER was to immediately strip out of everything I'd been wearing and re-dress in large amounts of clean, warm clothing. The Smell has pretty much been absent since then.
Oh, it's also noteworthy to note that this incident occurred a full two weeks after I'd had my last chemo of the first set of chemo treatments, and right after I was supposed to have my first treatment of my second set, BUT hadn't actually had it yet because I was so sick. So, not like the day after or something. Now, it's been a lot of weeks since my last treatment, and here it is back.
Hrm.
I don't get it, but I have absolutely determined that the smell IS coming from me, and that one of the places it definitely IS is in pee. Eww. TMI - I told you! Stinky pee! And because it's The Smell, it's making me insane. I don't know why it's back, but the fact that I feel crummy and The Smell is back add up to me having a really shitty-ass day, and wondering what the hell is happening. Is my body randomly, or on some schedule of some sort, purging some of the remaining chemo left in there? I have no idea!
But I'm less than thrilled...and so here I am. I owe lots of overdue email replies, most notably to two lovely gents whose names (given, taken, or otherwise) both begin with S, and one of whom is in a foreign country far, far away, and the other is in LA, which is almost further away, culturally speaking, from Gridley. I promise to get right on those messages, guys. Honest. As soon as I'm done babbling at the world via blog about my odd smells, during the wee hours.
Or perhaps I'll just take my sleeping pill and hope that banishes the feeling crappy, the snoring, The Smell, stinky pee and all, and the fact that the dogs are taking up at least 75% of the bed space. (I'm so not kidding -I would post a picture here, showing the tiny sliver of space that I have on one side, and my poor husband barely clinging to the other edge, barely not falling off, while the dogs form a perfect triangle in the middle, but my husband would kill me, and rightly so.)
Meanwhile, the only other noteworthy news of the day were the realizations that A) I actually kind of like a Macy Gray song, which should be vaguely criminal; B) I think I am developing a tv-crush on Jimmy Fallon, which will prove highly problematic when Conan comes back on, because my tv-crush on him is far, far stronger; and C) after typing all of this, I am actually starting to get tired.
Not tired enough to sleep, mind you, but just tired enough to be glad that I'm too old to be at a midnight showing of the latest Twilight movie, and too tired to go see if yet another change of wardrobe will banish The Smell. But kind of hungry.
...and so here I am.
