The Nose Knows Best!

It's all about the nose at the moment.

After my adventure to the hospital, I spent two days basically lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, too out of it to care about anything.

A tumble weed was blowing in the bathroom, next to my 'products' shelf. I hadn't cleansed, toned or moisturised in days. I felt like a scaley vagrant, unwashed and unclean.  I hadn't washed my hair in days, though subconsciously, I was arguing with myself, that the less I washed it the less likely it was to fall out...perhaps.

I was hot. Sweaty and hot, unwashed, ungroomed, uncaring... I wanted to lie still and stare at the ceiling. I began to enjoy it, the various cracks in the plaster, the little discernible patterns that they make. But then my bladder kicked in. Insistant, constant and irritating. All the time, at any hour, I was forced to drag myself out of bed, to go the loo.

My bladder broke me in the end. I had to get up so often that I decided to venture downstairs and sit on the couch and stare out the window instead of at the ceiling.

I opened the door to the sitting room and shuffled in.  My housemate was happily sitting on the floor, rugging! She is a craft genius and had decided to make her own rug, using a hesian sac and some wool.  I took two steps into the room and greeted her.
'Hi, what you.....' My voice trails off.
What is that smell? Oh my god, the smell....
The smell of the chemically covered, stale coffee hessian sack makes me want to vomit. I skirt into the kitchen, breath held, apologising to my house mate and made a quick peanut butter sandwich and skirt back upstairs, shallow breathing all the time. I needed to be in my smell free room, and near the bucket which had taken pride of place, right next to my bed.

At night time, I need three t-shirts and a hot water bottle, as in the middle of the night, I sweat so much I have to change my t-shirt, move to the other side of the bed and plonk the hot water bottle in the sweaty patch, so it dries up. (gross, sorry!).

The next day was better, I get up and ventured downstairs, my nostrils at the ready. My boyfriend had wrapped the offending hessian sack in a black plastic bag and shoved it under the stairs. I tentatively test the air with my nose for smells and get the all clear. I brave it and ventured to watch an episode of 'True Blood' with my housemate.  As I sit on the couch, I dutifully fulfill the doctors orders, knocking back two of the super antibiotics and settled down for an eyeful.

The room gets very hot. I start feeling uncomfortable. Oh dear, the room is now very cold. I think I'm going to be sick. I have to get upstairs to my room, to my bed, to my bucket. My ears start to ring.
I make it into bed and lay down, calming my irratic breath and heart beat. I don't feel good.

Two hours later I wake up. I think I might have passed out and then fallen asleep. These antibiotics are making me feel really strange. I reach blindly for the packet of and read the small print. They are used to treat a range of things, most notably Gonorrhea. The list of side effects are never ending. I reverently put them aside. Next time I take my dosage, I'll be more prepared, bucket at the ready.

Three days later... I feel pretty, oh so pretty, oh so pretty and witty and.....in much better form. I can go a whole day without puking, I can eat little and often without wanting to barf it all up. I have even been for another little adventure. This time, much more pleasant. Yesterday I went to the post box down the street, all on my own. When I left the house, I felt as if I was suffering from agraphobia, as step by step brought me futher away from the comfort of knowing I was close to my bed, my bucket, my panadol and my duvet. After about ten steps I began to enjoy the sunshine and the feel of the wind in my hair. (I guffed at the irony, I didn't know how long more I would have hair but it still felt nice).

Another day later, I agree to accompany my boyfriend to lunch, not that I will be eating anything but I will go with him and watch in fascination as he eats all manner of foods. I am confined to eating plain potatoes, bananas, rice cakes and peanut butter, anything else and I risk instant nausea.

We go to a restaurant and sit down. It's really hot and  I take in a lungful of air, the smell of spicy food hits my stomach and unashamedly assaults it, until I feel the grip of a wave of nausea wash over me.
PANIC....we are in public, in a restaurant, and I'm going to puke, OH NO!
My boyfriend eyes me across the table. 'Are you ok? You look a bit green'. (Thanks dear!)
'No. I need to leave.' I tell him matter of factly.
'Do you want to sit outside?'
It's dull and grey and not very appealing but anything is better than sitting here.
'Yes, Yes. Let's sit outside.' You'd swear we were in a tropical sunshine island, such was the enthusiasm with which I barreled out the door and onto the chair in the lovely, clean, fresh, spice free air. A gentle clean breeze keeps all smells at bay.....heaven!

The waitress arrives and I apologies, clearly without thinking what I was saying.
'Sorry, we decided to sit outside as I couldn't take the smell.'
'Excuse me? Our restaurant does not smell.' She looks at me with complete idignation.
Oh no, my brain is on a go slow.
'No, no, sorry, I didn't mean it smelt bad, it was just the smell of the spices.' Her face has turned stoney. I'm trying really hard not to laugh.
'Do you have peppermint tea,' I enquire.
'No. We just have ordinary tea.'
'Ok'.
'Would you like a cup then?'
'Um, no thanks.' Ordinary tea right now is akin to Satan and would make me sick, there and then. The prospect of drinking a cup was like suggesting drinking a cup of boiled dishcloth water.
The waitress rolls her eyes and stalks back into the restaurant, no doubt to tell the kitchen staff to spit in my boyfriend's meal.

He looks at me across the table and we laugh uncontrollably at the absurdity of the situation.

Oh, it's so nice to be out of the house, sitting, talking, feeling normal.

A woman comes out and sits at the table next to us.  She smiles in our direction and lights up a cigarette.  The smell wafts over to me.
I turn green and clasp my scarf to my face.
So much for a light lunch.

Nose knows best and if you're smart and undergoing chemo, you will pay attention to it.  Only five more sessions of chemo to go. I better invest in some clothes pegs, so I can leave the house!