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Chemo Cycle 31 – AKA the Booty Biographies

Buckle up your seat belts people cause we’re talking butt stuff today, and lots of it. But before we dive into what has been the least dignifying cycle of my young life, let’s talk scans. I got some done last Monday (at the ghetto location again but no fun stories to report back this time) and for the first time in almost a year, we got back some relatively good news! No major growth and maybe even a smidge of shrinkage in the chestular area. For people with expectations set as low as mine, that’s some pretty A+ news. Now, before we bust out the bubbly and start firing off photocopies of our asses on the company printer, let’s remember that this isn’t clinical trial. What I mean by that is this is a chemotherapy, not immunotherapy, so I can’t be on this drug forever without consequences which means no growth isn’t quite the victory it used to be, we gotta set our sights on shrinkage or else this whole ordeal will achieve nothing more than ruining my heart muscles. With that being said, seeing very little/no growth after only 2 cycles is quite promising in my professional opinion, so I got that going for me. Now, let’s get into that butt stuff I mentioned earlier.  I briefly mentioned this chemo giving me diarrhea in my last blog and holy sweet mother of mercy what I would do for some diarrhea right about now. You see, Adriamycin is famous for two things: 1) being one of the early effective treatments for breast cancer, and 2) mouth sores. Lots of mouth sores. Now, luckily for me, I’ve never had problems with mouth sores before. Unluckily for me, mouth sores can occur anywhere along your GI tract, and my lower GI tract has a reputation for attracting trouble from chemo. What I’m tastefully eluding to is that I have butthole sores, and they’re no summertime picnic in the daisy field, lemme tell you. No, they’re more like open wounds in my poop chute. I dunno if you’ve ever had a blister rub against something the wrong way and dealt with the searing pain that follows, but that’s roughly what my past 12 bowel movements have felt like. Just a slow, searing pain that makes your eyes water and will have ya screaming out for mammy. I took a dump in the Chelsea Imaging waiting room and I had to chew on my winter hat to keep myself from yelping like a puppy dog who got his tail stepped on. It’s been like trying to squeeze a golf ball through a garden hose over and over and my friends, I am quite sick of it. Now you’re probably thinking, “hey Mitch, if your shits hurt so bad then why don’t you take a stool softener ya dummy?” to which I would respond “hey buttlicker, I’ve been taking stool softeners and laxatives for weeks but my suddenly magic butthole appears to be immune to the effects of such remedies so how about you take your little baby playtime ideas and go kick rocks. Come back when you got some big boy remedies like greased lightning or a plunger.”  So I alerted my doctors and nurses to the sweaty snags I’ve been having with my chocolate starfish (which soon devolved into the entire nursing staff of the infusion unit discussing my anal woes), which would be a difficult and embarrassing conversation for most 24-year-olds to have in the company of strangers but as I have lost any shred of dignity I had though these past years I have become more than comfortable sharing such gory and graphic details about myself with just about anyone. Hence this blog post. Anyways, the solution we seemed to settle on was using coconut oil. That’s right, coconut oil. The concept is that if I butter up my bunghole right beforehand then hopefully that shit will come squealing out of me faster than a greased pig at a county fair. I tried it for the first time today and to be honest, once you get past the weirdness of rubbing butter all up in there, it worked kinda well. It does have a bit of a smell that lingers and my farts have been a bit too close to sharts for my liking, but all in all it seems we’re on the up and up. And that’s all I have to say about my treatment so far. I’ve been less tired and stuff and I had to stay at the hospital for a few nights for a fever but none of that is as fun to talk about so we’re gonna ignore it. Anyways, enjoy yourselves and I hope your next BM is a good one.

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