Wet and Wild

Ken has been wanting a pool, and I've been resisting.  I like having a yard, and I don't like grass-covered, wet feet traipsing across warp-able laminate flooring.  The idea of floating alone in a lounge chair with a drink and a book is appealing, but I can imagine sinking my Kindle.  Also, of course, the drink would be water. 

Water, water, and more water.  Drinking it serves the triple purpose of aiding the dry mouth brought on by the chemo, knocking out the constant thirst brought on by the prednisone, and flushing the chemo out of my system so my body can return to "normal" more quickly after each treatment.  Officially, I need to drink four 20-ounce bottles a day.  In reality, I drink closer to six or seven.  I have a reddish colored bottle I purchased at Target nearly two years ago to reduce my carbon footprint, and I fill it repeatedly.  If you have seen me in the past 6 weeks, you have seen the little handle of my bottle looped through my index finger on my left hand.  It's American Express:  I don't leave home without it.  In my wallet, I carry a note from Dr. Fox advising any interested parties that I am required to have water with me at all times.  Anyone who wouldn't let me would be violating the ADA.  So ha, theater and museum attendants. 

The drinking water part isn't bad at all.  What's worrisome is when my supply runs low and the chance to refill is not imminent.  I moderate, saving those last few sips for when they're desperately needed, and I feel my energy drain in those circumstances.  It becomes a bit panicky, actually.  I can become light-headed and clammy very quickly. 

As a result of nausea, acid reflux, and my full-time task of sipping water, I burp loudly and frequently, with carefree abandon.  It feels so good, I won't be apologizing for it.  So fair warning:  I am the wild and crazy burping girl. 

During the extreme heat, I only made it to a pool one day, when Barb invited me on a Sunday afternoon.  My water bottle warmed quickly, but Barb kept me quenched with iced green tea (or green iced tea?).  We lounged in the built-in seats in her gorgeous new pool.  Refreshing, but not as refreshing as tea with ice.  Would I ever use a pool, or do I just need my water on the inside?  Hard to say, but I can tell you I am relieved to be tabling the pool issue until next summer. 

In the meantime, I've finished the 20-ounce bottle I started sipping at the beginning of this post.  Burp.  Now it's time for a refill.  I had my third treatment of the second group today (6th treatment since beginning on June 15), and so I am flushing.  Literally, figuratively, you name it.  Water.  Burp.  Flush.  Flush, chemo, flush.  And don't bother me for the next two weeks.  Pretty please!