Wednesday, 1 February 2012
JAKE AND LOSING MARIAH CAREY
The news in no particular order…
I have a coat named Jake. Jake is a puffy man’s coat, size extra-large, with a tight-fitting hood that could make Penelope Cruz look like a dork. But he cost $40 (price reduced over and over) at Sears Outlet – and by Goddess, he doesn’t let the winter wind in, so I can walk miles in freezing winds. Why, you may be asking yourself, would anyone want to walk miles in freezing winds? Well, since September, between throwing up and sleeping, there’s been a lot of reading and television and I’ve come to the conclusion that really, it’s not a great plan for getting back into shape. You know, with muscles and stuff. Hence, the purchase of Jake – and the unearthing of some free weights buried at the back of the storage closet.
Ears: Since chemo – and the cold from hell I developed right after my first round of chemo, I’ve become nearly deaf in my left ear. There is water in my ear canal that no amount of medicated sinus spray will clear up, so my doc is putting me through the steps. First the nasal spray (for months), then the hearing test, then the eye/ear/nose specialist. The hearing test was yesterday and apparently, Cisplatin (one of my chemo drugs), the gift that just keeps on giving, has killed the upper range of my hearing in both ears. Hell. Obviously I won’t be buying Mariah Carey CDs and there’s little hope of my learning to hear dog whistles. What Cisplatin hasn’t murdered, the water in my ear canal finished off. If you stand to my left and talk to me, don’t expect me to know you’re there. “Moderate to severe” hearing loss according to the nice ear lady.
Proceeding from ears to eyes. Suddenly, my excellent close vision isn’t. And my glasses don’t seem to enable me to read signs I should be seeing clearly. Forget trying to read at night. This developed quite suddenly sometimes in-between the third and fourth round of chemo. I have an appointment with the optometrist on Thursday and in her opinion, (once again) I may have Cisplatin to thank for impairing my vision.
And I won’t even know whether the chemo and radiation actually helped until March.
Meanwhile, when all this becomes too annoying to stand, me and Jake will head out into the February freeze and walk it off because thankfully, my legs are still in working order.
On the home front, the good news is that my Muse is chemo-proof. She’s got us working on a free-form bracelet and plotting other experiments to begin the minute we’re finished this piece.
There are problems and annoyances, “deficits,” the doctors call them – but at least my mind is more or less in working order and overall, for now, (hear this in a James Cagney voice), mostly things are Jake.