Frexles and My Liver Goes to the Aesthetician

Hey, all! So I'm going on Cycle 3 of X. I finally figured out that nadir on Xeloda is a thing. The Thursday night I take my last dose, I am so grossed out about it. Not only does taking the medicine make me gag but the thought of food makes me shudder. Wut? This, coming from the lady who gained 50 pounds during her first pregnancy? I have always loved food so much, but at the end of two weeks of Xeloda, I'm ready to just pound some tasteless Soylent space-shake and sleep. Maybe I'll drop some of this weight I gained from the steroids I took on chemo. That'd be a perk.

At this nadir, just driving a fucking car for five hours sends me into the 13-hour sleep bender. The kind that makes you have the most insane and vivid dreams (as confirmed by Louis CK here in a most NSFW manner -- http://youtu.be/BEBy3sKTG-c). 

I keep having a dream where I am in a lovely spa setting and my liver has been disembodied yet I'm aware, most relaxed, and feeling what is going on. It sits on a white towel, and it is a large, smooth, semi-opaque maroon cutlet with small protuberances of varying sizes, like boiled fingerling potatoes or cuts of string cheese, throughout. Some are visibly sticking out. Others create an uneven surface underneath.  A pair of small, lovely ladies' hands, covered in massage oil, begin with effleurage strokes, gently stroking my liver and applying subtly increasing pressure to *pop* loosen the largest tumors closest to the surface, leaving holes. After a short time, the surface of my liver looks like a slab of black cherry jello salad that used to have grapes in it, and now there are perfectly shaped craters instead. Then, the hands replenish their aromatherapeutic oils and begin deeper massage, loosening smaller masses that find their way through the larger holes. Each time, the hands wipe these aside and retrieve another squirt of lavender-scented oil. Lastly, the hands press deepest to extract a slurry of gravel-like tumors that emerge from the holes to be hygienically wiped away, leaving me with a liver that is clean and translucent through pathways where the light shines through. I know this sounds hella creepy but it truly is very relaxing and pleasant. What do you expect from a phaneromaniac? I feel such a sense of calm and release of anxiety and tension during this imagery.

On the topic of aesthetics, I have noticed an increase of dark freckles on my face. Fortunately, these aren't like the dirty looking melasma we women get from being pregnant or using hormonal birth control. I was dreading the return of the Dust Mustache! Nope, these are just scatterings of tiny dark spots across my nose, chin, and even on my lips. Hopefully I can keep it under control by being even more vigilant with the SPF.

I go back to the gyn-onc tomorrow to sheepishly apologize for the last minute cancellation of my oophorectomy and discuss rescheduling.