Taste in Music
I think I've shared already about what's lovingly referred to as "chemo brain" or "chemo fog." If I haven't (because I don't remember because I have chemo brain--see how that works?) or if you're just joining in now (I have this fantasy in my head that people read my blog and can't wait for the next entry) here it is in brief. One of the side effects of chemo can best be described as a curtain of fog that falls over the brain. It's not fun.
But it is interesting.
This last week, I had chemo fog bad for several days. During that fog, a couple of new symptoms blossomed (why is that word so gross?).
One was that I couldn't process how things tasted. This is super specific. It's not the usual side effect that people talk about with chemo and taste. Yes, it totally jacks up your tastebuds, but this wasn't that. I could taste things. I knew I was tasting them. I could even sometimes tell if the taste was pleasant or not. But I had no idea what the taste was. Somewhere in my brain, something shut off in that department. Again, it wasn't that things were tasteless, but the end result was the same for me. There was the taste input, but there was no level of output. I might as well have been eating cardboard, as far as my brain was concerned.
The other one was with music. If I was listening to a piece of music I already knew, I could sing along, on pitch. But if it was something new, I couldn't process the melody. I could process the lyrics just fine, but I had no idea what the melody might be. I could hear there was a melody, but that was the extent of it.
Weird, right?
But more interesting than anything else. That's the other thing--when I talk about side effects, they aren't all awful. Some of them are downright positive. Examples: first, my elbows, which used to be like elephant skin, are soft and smooth as a baby's butt, and b) my beard, which used to be coarse and pokey, is now cottony-soft.
So there you go. You now have heard two fascinating and two positive possible side effects of chemo. Individual experiences may vary.
Post-script: I wrote this entry with mild to moderate chemo fog, but worked really hard to make sure there weren't any errors. So if you spot one, make a comment! I'll love it. Promise.
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Coming next, we talk about the vile effluvia of the chemo recipient.
Next post.
But it is interesting.
This last week, I had chemo fog bad for several days. During that fog, a couple of new symptoms blossomed (why is that word so gross?).
One was that I couldn't process how things tasted. This is super specific. It's not the usual side effect that people talk about with chemo and taste. Yes, it totally jacks up your tastebuds, but this wasn't that. I could taste things. I knew I was tasting them. I could even sometimes tell if the taste was pleasant or not. But I had no idea what the taste was. Somewhere in my brain, something shut off in that department. Again, it wasn't that things were tasteless, but the end result was the same for me. There was the taste input, but there was no level of output. I might as well have been eating cardboard, as far as my brain was concerned.
This mouth and tongue are way more attractive than mine. |
The other one was with music. If I was listening to a piece of music I already knew, I could sing along, on pitch. But if it was something new, I couldn't process the melody. I could process the lyrics just fine, but I had no idea what the melody might be. I could hear there was a melody, but that was the extent of it.
Weird, right?
But more interesting than anything else. That's the other thing--when I talk about side effects, they aren't all awful. Some of them are downright positive. Examples: first, my elbows, which used to be like elephant skin, are soft and smooth as a baby's butt, and b) my beard, which used to be coarse and pokey, is now cottony-soft.
There was a Mad about You reference in that last paragraph, if that's of interest to anyone. |
So there you go. You now have heard two fascinating and two positive possible side effects of chemo. Individual experiences may vary.
Post-script: I wrote this entry with mild to moderate chemo fog, but worked really hard to make sure there weren't any errors. So if you spot one, make a comment! I'll love it. Promise.
---------
Coming next, we talk about the vile effluvia of the chemo recipient.
Yeah. Something like that. |
Every blog entry so far has been delightful.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much!
DeleteI will gladly be your editor, but only because you promised you would love it:
ReplyDelete"why is that work so gross?". Did you mean, "why is that word so gross?"? Everything else looks great!
If you ever want me to edit your work as you make your way through your chemo fogginess, let me know; I'm happy to help. Thank you for continuing to write. I look forward to each new post.
That is so kind of you to offer! I'll make that change, definitely.
DeleteI'm trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to leave some, if not all, of my errors. It's part of the chemo brain fog, and I want to be honest about that. But when it comes to clarity, I tend to err on the side of fixing it. All of it! :)
In addition to what Jenny said, you probably meant to caption the image with the mouth and tongue as way *more* attractive than yours... (and I agree with you on that, by the way!)
ReplyDeleteDefinitely! I'll fix it. You know, for clarity. Ha.
Delete