Where is Pavarotti when you need him?

It sings out loudly from the refrigerator door. The quote from Luciano Pavarotti reads in big bold print: “One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.”

Yeah, well, maybe, if you have not yet gone a round with chemo.


The Ex finished his third round of chemo (Cysplatin and VP16) last Wednesday. He had the last infusion at the hospital versus our usual little clinic, because the little clinic is closed for two weeks. Our oncologist went home to her native India for a visit. Isn’t that just so nice?

This little clinic is in a huge medical area of our small retirement town. It is the only office I know of that has herbs and vegetables growing in the parking lot medians. I wonder who will tend the little urban gardens while the clinic is closed?

The Ex swears the hospital did something different (perhaps less fluids, no steroids, no parking lot herbs… something!) that made him sicker than he’s ever been before. He doesn’t hear me when I tell him my INSPIREd friends say after-effects get worse as treatments wear on.

What a conundrum chemo brings. Poisoning to Live. Seems like a ridiculous notion. I am amazed that it works at all.

After chemo, The Ex can’t eat. Then, his stomach revolts; it needs food! He gets dizzy sometimes when he stands. Is this from lack of nourishment or is it chemo after-effects?

He agrees with those of you who say chemo craps on your taste buds. Nothing looks good. Nothing feels right in your mouth. And, don’t forget the meds! Once you get those meds down – GAK! You could be too full to eat! The pills are almost a meal in themselves!

In this most recent post-treatment period (5 days since his last infusion), I have served so many foods, I’m thinking of adding “banquet manager” to my resume. Despite my best efforts, there have been no feeding frenzies here, only me in a tizzy, desperately seeking something to feed my poor starving Ex.

Most anything offered has been only nibbled or flatly refused. Nibbles are okay. I'll accept nibbles. They make the effort worthwhile.

I’ve tried:
Eggs, toast, plain bagel, oatmeal, cereal, canned fruit (mixed and pears), fresh fruit (bananas, watermelon, canteloupe), McDonald’s milkshake, cottage cheese, grilled cheese, saltine crackers, rice, mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and, once, he served himself Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup.

I wouldn’t have bothered with CCN soup. I remember how undeniably undelicious it was the last time I served it. I can’t believe I used to feed it to my son, or even that I used to enjoy it myself. The fat floats around on top, and it’s full of salt, preservatives and stuff you can’t pronounce. It’s just plain gross.

Today, The Ex is feeling better. He stopped what he was doing and devoted his attention to a Red Delicious apple. Pavarotti would be pleased, but I was the one who felt like singing!