D+8 -- Nausea

(Saturday)

The Infectious Disease docs wanted another stool sample and left a "hat" the night before that sits in the toilet bowl. At 6 in the morning, I get to make another public "I made a poopie" announcement. The nursing assistant who comes to process that hat's contents is very pleasant about her role, at one point saying, "Thank you so much." Um... you're welcome?

When I finally get up, I am nauseous. I request and receive a Compazine tablet. It doesn't help. We try some Zofran, which also doesn't help. More Zofran. A little better. I order and eat a late, bland breakfast, even though I don't feel like eating. Although it's the most nauseous I have felt during my 8+-week stay, I would rate it about a 4 on a scale of 10. Compared to how some people feel at this point in their treatment, I'm getting off lightly.

The doctors report that my white blood cell count is still beneath detection.

Jeff comes by a little after midday, with a St. Patrick's Day tam, and a necklace.

The tam and necklace go so well with my gown, and with
my nausea-hued face.

Mid-afternoon, I order a bland lunch -- noodles with parmesan and a salad.

Jeff heads to the airport. We agree that we should get together before another two decades pass. Jeff has sweetened the prospect of visiting Oregon with some mouth-watering descriptions of the food he and his wife eat, either at home or in area restaurants.

Shortly after Jeff leaves, Claire arrives. Claire was Jan's college roommate, and we spent a few days in Maine with her, her husband David, and their dog Marseilles last summer. Claire was giving a presentation in the Chicago area and was able to stay over the weekend to see me and (tomorrow) Jan.

Late afternoon, Claire leaves and I take a nap. The anti-nausea medicine is working well enough that I order a fairly normal dinner, though still on the bland side -- baked fish, baked potato, broccoli.

Eventually to bed.