I am officially halfway done with radiation. I have ten zaps remaining and will be all done by January 18th. That's the good news. The bad news is I have some pretty serious side effects from these nuclear blasts. Have you seen the movie Toxic Avenger? It's kind of similar only instead of the melted face I'm devilishly handsome otherwise it's just like that. I fight crime, I'm covered in bulging muscles (beneath this layer of insulating blubber) and I use a mop. Okay, okay, that's not all true. I don't actually use a mop - that's woman's work.
In all seriousness, it seems like radiation may be causing me more problems than chemo did. I never lost my hair, on my head that is, for some reason my leg hair fell out. On the plus side my legs are so damn sexy now I can finally pull off a mini-skirt. I never threw up or shat myself (I'm particularly proud of this one). While I was haunted by an odd smell that seemed to attach itself to all things (admittedly, it may have been b.o.) it never changed my tastebuds so I never got to the point that I didn't want to eat. Far from it. Thanks to the steroids they were pumping into me I was ravenously hungry most of the time. Steroids absolutely work by the way. After four months of taking Prednisone I'm about one large lunch away from three bills. I only wish I'd been feeling well enough to workout while I was on them. I'd be able to bench press myself. Finally, based on the extensive "extracurricular activity" the Lovely Girlfriend and I engaged in on my trip home and on her recent New Years trip to Maine everything is still in working order downstairs, if you know what I mean. And I think you should since I'm doing such a poor job of speaking in code. I'm talking about sex, people. Jeez, you just had to make me say it. Happy now? I know I am cause I can still have sex. Loads of it.
Radiation may have relegated me to a liquid diet. Since I woke up Tuesday morning it has been nearly impossible for me to eat solid food. I don't know what eating glass would feel like but the stabbing pain that I now get in the back of my throat has got to be in the ballpark. It's a hybrid of sensations really. Kind of like I'm choking but also possibly scalding the back of my throat. It does not matter how small of a bite I take. As long as it is solid food it hurts like hell. Anyone that knows me knows I love to eat. I once debated getting that tattooed onto my stomach. Like Tupac's Thug Life tat only it would read I Love To Eat with a plate, fork and knife under it. I'd take photos with my shirt off looking all ghetto and well fed. I'd tie the doo-rag around my neck as a bib.
Luckily, my last pain-free meal was a great one. The Lovely Girlfriend and I ate at The Grill Room in Portland, ME. I had poached sweetbreads with beef carpaccio as a starter. Once the Lovely Girlfriend found out what sweetbreads were she wanted no part of them. I was not against gobbling them down on my own. We did split a 37 ounce porterhouse cooked rare to absolute perfection. The Lovely Girlfriend gluttonously insisted on having as much as seven of those thirty-seven ounces of juicy red meat deliciousness. It came with mushroom risotto, roasted beets and grilled asparagus, each one of them amazing. We finished off the meal with one of the best carrot cakes I've ever eaten (no offence, Mom) served with rum raisin ice cream. Absolutely fantastic from beginning to end. That was Sunday. I didn't realize it at the time but that would be the last time I could swallow normally.
Liquids hurt too. Not as badly, more like that strep throat feeling. Earlier, I drank a chocolate Ensure as a meal replacement. If you had bet me on at what point in my life I would be drinking Ensure I'd have put my money on seventy-five and up. It tasted a lot like what I would imagine a retirement home to taste like but otherwise it wasn't that bad. Tonight, I will be breaking out the juicer and searching the web for juicing recipes. If any reader is a former or current juice diet enthusiast please feel free to forward me your favorites. If any of them come with instructions on how to blend a t-bone steak that would be greatly appreciated.
In all seriousness, it seems like radiation may be causing me more problems than chemo did. I never lost my hair, on my head that is, for some reason my leg hair fell out. On the plus side my legs are so damn sexy now I can finally pull off a mini-skirt. I never threw up or shat myself (I'm particularly proud of this one). While I was haunted by an odd smell that seemed to attach itself to all things (admittedly, it may have been b.o.) it never changed my tastebuds so I never got to the point that I didn't want to eat. Far from it. Thanks to the steroids they were pumping into me I was ravenously hungry most of the time. Steroids absolutely work by the way. After four months of taking Prednisone I'm about one large lunch away from three bills. I only wish I'd been feeling well enough to workout while I was on them. I'd be able to bench press myself. Finally, based on the extensive "extracurricular activity" the Lovely Girlfriend and I engaged in on my trip home and on her recent New Years trip to Maine everything is still in working order downstairs, if you know what I mean. And I think you should since I'm doing such a poor job of speaking in code. I'm talking about sex, people. Jeez, you just had to make me say it. Happy now? I know I am cause I can still have sex. Loads of it.
Radiation may have relegated me to a liquid diet. Since I woke up Tuesday morning it has been nearly impossible for me to eat solid food. I don't know what eating glass would feel like but the stabbing pain that I now get in the back of my throat has got to be in the ballpark. It's a hybrid of sensations really. Kind of like I'm choking but also possibly scalding the back of my throat. It does not matter how small of a bite I take. As long as it is solid food it hurts like hell. Anyone that knows me knows I love to eat. I once debated getting that tattooed onto my stomach. Like Tupac's Thug Life tat only it would read I Love To Eat with a plate, fork and knife under it. I'd take photos with my shirt off looking all ghetto and well fed. I'd tie the doo-rag around my neck as a bib.
Luckily, my last pain-free meal was a great one. The Lovely Girlfriend and I ate at The Grill Room in Portland, ME. I had poached sweetbreads with beef carpaccio as a starter. Once the Lovely Girlfriend found out what sweetbreads were she wanted no part of them. I was not against gobbling them down on my own. We did split a 37 ounce porterhouse cooked rare to absolute perfection. The Lovely Girlfriend gluttonously insisted on having as much as seven of those thirty-seven ounces of juicy red meat deliciousness. It came with mushroom risotto, roasted beets and grilled asparagus, each one of them amazing. We finished off the meal with one of the best carrot cakes I've ever eaten (no offence, Mom) served with rum raisin ice cream. Absolutely fantastic from beginning to end. That was Sunday. I didn't realize it at the time but that would be the last time I could swallow normally.
Liquids hurt too. Not as badly, more like that strep throat feeling. Earlier, I drank a chocolate Ensure as a meal replacement. If you had bet me on at what point in my life I would be drinking Ensure I'd have put my money on seventy-five and up. It tasted a lot like what I would imagine a retirement home to taste like but otherwise it wasn't that bad. Tonight, I will be breaking out the juicer and searching the web for juicing recipes. If any reader is a former or current juice diet enthusiast please feel free to forward me your favorites. If any of them come with instructions on how to blend a t-bone steak that would be greatly appreciated.
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