I'm getting beat to hell. The cancer is coming at me now in so many different ways that my body just can't keep up. I sleep a lot. I lay around a lot. I don't like going outside for anything. I'm out of breath most of the time.
Starting the year, I had two magic bullets--two treatments that are surefire winners. Bendamusstine is the better of the two. I took it. I can't take it any more. The other treatment is SGN. I don't think I'll last past the first treatment because its major side effect is bad nueropathy. I already have bad neuropathy. For folks in that condition, the drug puts them through ungodly pain and in some cases, paralysis.
So the cancer grows now. Very little will be able to stop it. And it is making me subhuman. The other day I spent a couple of hours itching. Now, I don't mean itching and watching TV or itching and eating. Just itching. For two hours. After that I didn't stop itching but I went on to doing other things as well.
Sherri and I got an email from my mom about our birthdays (sherri's is the 25th, the day after mine. Is that cool or what? I've never forgotten her birthday.). In the note, there was a reference to "days full of happiness" and she ends it all with, "May you have the best times of your lives." Wow. Days full of happiness. I don't understand how someone could write such a callous and clueless thing. And she's my mother. If I can get ten minutes of happiness, it's a good day. If I can get ten minutes without itching and find full happiness at the same time, well, then a celebration is in order. We're going to the Olive Garden!