A new routine
I've just finished listening to a 1949 recording of Mozart's Magic Flute, with Otto Klemperer conducting the Hungarian State Opera, and Mihaly Szekely singing the role of Sarastro. This was my father's favourite opera and somehow as I listened, I was pretty sure that dad was at that performance, probably as a duty medical officer. When it was over, I suddenly burst into tears. I really missed my dad, something I haven't done so intensely in decades. Cancer treatment does strange things to the mind as well as the body.
The digitised version is on a 1999 CD released by an Italian company, whose intention is to 'rehabilitate' Kleperer, "The Forgotten Man of Music." I didn't know he was forgotten, because I certainly remember him. I ordered it through amazon.com after I rummaged through my old records, which I am slowly digitizing (yes, I still have a record player and a reel-to-reel tape recorder -- for my museum when I get old, you understand), and found some recordings of Mihaly Szekely, who is my very favourite of all time. He was a base baritone whose deep base was only bested by Paul Robeson. One of the records looked pretty beat up, so I turned to amazon.com and ordered a few CDs that he was supposed to be on. I was curious to discover whether he was as good as I remembered. Yes, he was. And I am so sorry that he doesn't have a recording of Don Giovanni, which I saw as a kid and never forgot.
OK, back to the main issue at hand. Yes, I freaked last week. I just had enough. It was all becoming too much, too long, and who knows what the payoff would be. Well, after a few days and lots of talking with different people, I got my bounce back and here I am, looking forward to having a 'quickie fry up' at the hospital in one hour.
The new routine is: either take the bus or walk to the hospital, and then walk back or take the bus. It depends on the weather. It's uphill to the hospital and too much when it's hot and humid. I am being very sensible, you may be happy to hear.
It is amazing what the human body can get used to. The X-ray machine is an ingenious contraption that can move 360 degrees around the body, so you are not shoved into an early grave like with the MRI, you just hear little clicks as the machine moves around you and an electronic buzz when they give the 'juice'. It really only takes 5-10 minutes.
The stomach symptoms have settled down and, by now, I am used to remnants of the joys of chemotherapy, so the only side-effect of the radiation so far is fatigue in the afternoon and periodic, slight nausea. Now, the doc says the nausea is not from the radiation, but I've talked with other patients who complain of the same thing, so what do docs know? Right? Right!
Although the mental fog is gone, I still can't focus on important things, like work and administrative stuff. This blog is the only thing I can manage to write and it's not as frequent as before, if you haven't noticed. I seem to be wafting through time, if not space, and when I stop it's evening already. The feeling of being in the twilight zone has, apparently, not changed with the lifting of the brain fog. Ah well!
However, I am happy to report that my hair is starting to grow back. And how do I know that? Yesterday morning I looked in the mirror and, shock horror, there was a dark shadow under my nose. My mustache is back!
The digitised version is on a 1999 CD released by an Italian company, whose intention is to 'rehabilitate' Kleperer, "The Forgotten Man of Music." I didn't know he was forgotten, because I certainly remember him. I ordered it through amazon.com after I rummaged through my old records, which I am slowly digitizing (yes, I still have a record player and a reel-to-reel tape recorder -- for my museum when I get old, you understand), and found some recordings of Mihaly Szekely, who is my very favourite of all time. He was a base baritone whose deep base was only bested by Paul Robeson. One of the records looked pretty beat up, so I turned to amazon.com and ordered a few CDs that he was supposed to be on. I was curious to discover whether he was as good as I remembered. Yes, he was. And I am so sorry that he doesn't have a recording of Don Giovanni, which I saw as a kid and never forgot.
OK, back to the main issue at hand. Yes, I freaked last week. I just had enough. It was all becoming too much, too long, and who knows what the payoff would be. Well, after a few days and lots of talking with different people, I got my bounce back and here I am, looking forward to having a 'quickie fry up' at the hospital in one hour.
The new routine is: either take the bus or walk to the hospital, and then walk back or take the bus. It depends on the weather. It's uphill to the hospital and too much when it's hot and humid. I am being very sensible, you may be happy to hear.
It is amazing what the human body can get used to. The X-ray machine is an ingenious contraption that can move 360 degrees around the body, so you are not shoved into an early grave like with the MRI, you just hear little clicks as the machine moves around you and an electronic buzz when they give the 'juice'. It really only takes 5-10 minutes.
The stomach symptoms have settled down and, by now, I am used to remnants of the joys of chemotherapy, so the only side-effect of the radiation so far is fatigue in the afternoon and periodic, slight nausea. Now, the doc says the nausea is not from the radiation, but I've talked with other patients who complain of the same thing, so what do docs know? Right? Right!
Although the mental fog is gone, I still can't focus on important things, like work and administrative stuff. This blog is the only thing I can manage to write and it's not as frequent as before, if you haven't noticed. I seem to be wafting through time, if not space, and when I stop it's evening already. The feeling of being in the twilight zone has, apparently, not changed with the lifting of the brain fog. Ah well!
However, I am happy to report that my hair is starting to grow back. And how do I know that? Yesterday morning I looked in the mirror and, shock horror, there was a dark shadow under my nose. My mustache is back!
Labels: breast cancer, cancer, radiation
posted by Unknown at 12:12 PM
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