First solid night’s sleep since May 1, courtesy of 5mg Ambien and half a Vicodin. Am down to three side-effects: exhaustion (despite the solid sleep), sore tongue, and, oh yeah, what’s called “chemo brain” which is basically the inability to pass a Turing test without help. The zen of cats has opened to me and I am now at one with the essence of lassitude, staring blankly into the air and vaguely hoping that someone shows up soon to take care of whatever-the-hell-that-is. Apparently I am too stupid to read even awful historical novels: a small part of the brain says “there is absolutely no antecedent for this scene” while another part says “Eadwine, who the hell was … oh yeah, last paragraph.”
Still no appetite, which may be a blessing since I can’t seem to put anything in my mouth (except light liquids) that doesn’t hurt. Peg and Burny have loaded me up with a drink called Alō, where the lumpy parts are goopy aloe bits. It works. And of course there’s gak gak gak gak. I almost got through two soft scrambled eggs this morning although I was defeated by the fettucini Alfredo last night. I am currently faunching for fresh watermelon. I wonder where I could find some? And whether it wouldn’t sting, being a fruit and all.