Damn Cancer. Always with the problems.

Well, the nausea and fatigue didn't really go away - it just changed patterns.

That should not be allowed by the rules.

I like my life like I likes me womenz: Strong, dark, and bitter.

No wait, that's not right. That's coffee. OH! I know! I like my life to be somewhat consistent.

Stop laughing.

Anyway, I'm still experiencing some secondary side-effects. They get worse, then they get a little better giving me some hope that I'm on the downhill side, and then they get worse again.

I can handle the discomfort. I can handle the pain. I can handle the nausea and fatigue.

What I can't handle is every time I go to the bathroom wondering if the next time I'll have to be cathed. Interesting, because I've become a tad phobic about being cathed. (You can't see me right now, but I gots me a case of the 'willy-shivers' going on.) And it's so stupid, because I've been cathed quite a few times and while uncomfortable, it really isn't that big of a deal.

So, this will be the pattern for the next few months to a year. Although, if I can make it a couple more weeks, the odds that I'll have to have 'the tube' drop significantly.

I think it's more the idea than the physical actuality.

But, that's a hell of a lot of life, isn't it? The reality is often much more benign than thoughts that precede. Stupid humans.

There have been a couple of times over the last few days when I wondered if I'd selected the right treatment. With surgery it would have been done. Over. On to recovery.

Now it's like pulling a splinter out of your finger ever so slowly.

Of course with surgery it would have been like amputating the finger to get the splinter.

Damn cancer. Always with the problems.