Dear Friends --
Thanks to so many of you for checking in over the past few days. I'm a climber who regularly receives the most joyous postcards from basecamp -- in the form of texts, songs, calls, prayers, emails, and just in time links that enable me to sit for a spell and discover new and captivating stories. Each one just right. And all arrive exactly on time. Who knows how, and why would we ever try to figure that out?
Ok let's chat about Moxie. She is in all ways the sassy little sister we were expecting. Familiar, slightly predictable, and with a spicy surprise tucked in to make her forever unforgettable.
The good news is that overall Round 1.0 wasn't too terrible. I felt completely wiped out and a bit achy. But all the scary nausea and GI issues I was warned about didn't materialize. Instead, think of me on Moxie as a bit of a koala bear -- I move slowly and keep a low-energy routine, but hopefully there's all kinds of cuteness still there burrowed in the eucalyptus leaves.
And really, who doesn't want to be a koala bear now and again? So the first three days were blah, but certainly bearable (sorry).
Then Ms Moxie Sassy arrived Saturday. I woke up with the most painful mouth sores. But really more than that. Esophagus sores. Is that a thing? It is. It was the Great Mouth and Esophagus Apocalypse. Think canker sores run amok, and on fire.
That squeal of horror you heard from Menlo Park Saturday afternoon? That was me after I attempted to eat an almond. Lord have mercy. I can confidently say I'm now familiar with every millimeter of my esophagus.
As most of you know, the gig with chemo is that it goes after cells that are rapidly duplicating and replenishing, and as it turns out, the cells in our mouth and esophagus are constantly doing good and replenishing work. We love Moxie's spirit here, but she could use just a tad more target practice.
So for a few days protein drinks and all manner of tea -- iced, brewed, cold, room temperature -- became my new best friends. And I was able to get a prescription for a rinse that helped too. Bit by bit the Esophagus Apocalypse began to subside; by Wednesday this week I was getting back to normal(ish).
I won't sugarcoat here: Those days when I was panicked to eat anything other than the softest most bland mush were a total drag. But like all things on this mountain, those days opened up a new appreciation for the miracle of the most ordinary bits of our lives we are practically required to take for granted. Is there anything more routine or ordinary than swallowing? I guess we could come up with a list, but swallowing would still stay on high on the ledger no matter what we came up with. So I'm here to remind us all -- pain-free eating is a lovely miracle, and it's worth appreciating how spectacular it is when all works perfectly. As it normally does, each and every day.
I'll climb back into my eucalyptus tree and become my best koala bear self next Wednesday for Round 2. Before then I'll be having good conversations with oncologists and others about how to mitigate future Esophagus Apocalypses, and I'm sure we'll come up with a plan.
In the meantime, I'll enjoy a weekend with almonds, and teenagers, and baking, and time with friends, and long walks, and time to spot the extraordinary in all the magnificent ordinary.
It's everywhere, isn't it?
xoxo