Woke up in the middle of the night because I forgot to set a drugs alarm and slumbered myself right into some minor side-effects. No big deal. Pills down the hatch and I got to see the fattest fluffiest snowflakes slowly drifting down to cover up all the dog poop and half-rotten leaves. It was beautiful and took my mind off things I have been stressing about for a little bit until I fell back to sleep.
I have been reading about how chemo ages your DNA, and coincidentally how COVID does the same thing. Clipping your telomeres and changing you from an old to an OLD.
Between the two I am gonna hit the summer at a chronological age of 49 and a genetic age of something more like 76 according to the tables. I was really hoping for 69, but I am not going to pay for one of those tests just to find out for sure.
34 more hours of the FU pump and then I will start to feel better again. Then hopefully only two more of these cycles and a few months to build myself back up, maybe a quick nephrectomy on the backup cancer, and if my luck holds I can get to remission and stop typing anything about this except for a few times a year when I get scanned and/or scoped.
Then I get to spend the rest of my life working on all the love grudges I have accrued from all my friends doing so much for me the past 7 months. I can hardly wait. Bonus checkpoints all the way down.
Happy Thursday!