I just saw this. This sucks JC. Be strong man, be the cure!
Oh, and two things:
First, to everyone who’s wished me well here thanks. I know some say they had no idea but that was sort of my goal here. Those who know me on Facebook knew, of course, but I didn’t want it to become a thing here until I had some outcome certainty. Well, as much as there’s ever outcome certainty. I hope everyone understands.
Also, new tastebud update. Anything fizzy now ends up burning and tasting like hot sauce. VERY hot sauce. Here’s hoping this phase passes quickly.
Heya Mr. Chance,
Chemo-Induced Neuropathy is a bitch, isn’t it? I’ve had some relief from Desipramine (Norpramin), which is an anti-depressant but is given to me in lower doses than that given for depression. It works pretty well, but not completely - it seems to mostly slow down the rate of spreading for the neuropathy.
At one point I had lost the ability to use chopsticks, button my clothes, or put on my jewelry. Fortunately it’s gotten better.
I personally recommend, if your insurance allows, working with a palliative care doctor/team as soon as anyone starts treating for cancer. They aren’t just for the dying - they have training specifically in treating the side effects of treatment, and making it less of an ordeal. Mine have been amazing throughout, and have really been helpful in terms of treating the nausea, neuropathy, etc. Let the oncologist focus on killing the cancer - the palliative people can help make it tolerable.
I’ve gotten no reccos about palliative care. In terms of my side effects - as mentioned above, neuropathy, dry mouth, tremors and so forth - I’m told they’ll either go away over time or they won’t. It’s not something I want to spend a lot of time worrying about. But I haven’t had terribly bad side effects, either. I’m sure my point of view would be different if they were.
Seeing the kids at the cancer center was horrible. I cry at the St. Jude’s commercials. But even though someone else has it worse, we’re all entitled to feel whatever we feel regarding our own situations, and not feel guilty about it. So I keep telling myself. 
And you keep it up, Helena. Don’t get down.
You know, scary as it was, every doc I met with during diagnosis and beginning of treatment told me that it was routine and I should feel very good about things. As much as I could, anyway.
But I knew some of those people I was sitting in that room with weren’t ever getting better. It’s heartbreaking.