It was an inside job

Doug is dragging, aches, pains, fatigue and restless legs. He looks and acts like he got lightly beaten up. As far as I know I didn't pummel him in my sleep and he hasn't told me about any recent muggings, I think it is an inside job. As much as we are both pleased with the choice to do IPT, insulin potentiated therapy, the softer, gentler, and more efficient chemotherapy, it is still chemotherapy. We know that tumors are dying as we have a very handy sentinel tumor bunch in his right groin to mark the progress, it is almost gone after two weeks of treatment. But what most people don't know is that tumor death and necrosis (decay) is a very toxic and traumatic progress, it can poison and incapacitate the liver and kidneys, and oh yeah, makes you feel like you got hit by a truck.
The other result of pushing 5 different highly toxic drugs into your system a couple of times a week is that healthy cells get their little cell asses kicked along with the cancer cells, not matter how much one tries to protect the poor little guys with different supplements, drugs and precursors of all things protective of them. So the end result is someone who keeps his awesome head of hair, is slim and trim from diet changes, as handsome as ever but who is cranky, tired and who feels like shit. I guess the weekends are also to stop and realize all the collateral damage and to figure out what, if anything can be done to relieve the burden. His aches and pains are beyond my talents as I have applied them a couple of time in the past two days with minimal sustained relief. I have a call in to his favorite massage therapist, a young man who can massage his body until his bone marrow raises the surrender flag, though I have to say it doesn't look like his body could take that kind of pressure right now (though I am sure his mind would keep begging for more.)
So we are lazing around the house, having each accomplished small victories, he has finished two loads of laundry, gotta love a man that hangs your clothes up while still just barely damp in a fashion that they keep their shape and look fresher than the day you bought them. He also got some of the yard work done. I actually took Franky or a mile and a half walk, finished off making coconut jerky- smells like bacon, dried lemon peel, and am waiting on the rest to dehydrate some more, plain coconut meat and tomatillos, I may do some pears and apples today also. I also made a couple of slamming Green Gretas, the raw and concentrated counterpart to the Bloody Mary, green juice with many spicy and savory additions. I am still having high hopes for a put together raw prep kitchen by the end of the day, but hoping that we can have a date with Micheal Moore or Ricky Gervais this afternoon.
I have an appointment with the Uro-gyn tomorrow, it took two months to get the appointment , so I didn't know that we would be in the middle of cancer treatment at the appointment time. I could just let Doug go to treatment himself , as far as we know he doesn't have IPT tomorrow, so he should be able to get himself there and back, though I like being there for him while he gets his treatments and there is a strong possibility that I will actually get into see the doctor there as I have a standing appointment with him to set up a treatment plan at the clinic for me as soon as he can slide me in between other patients. I could cancel I suppose, and hope that my continuing weight loss and more Kegels will improve the abysmal situation of my poor urinary tract, which works fine until it is stressed by the inevitable bronchial attack and then all bets are off and the protective devices are on!! When I made the appointment, even I was embarrassed but the number of times that I shouted extremely colorful obscenities at the loss of continence suffered 10 or 12 times a day. While the situation is vastly improved, I haven't peed my pants for a good 2 weeks, (OK there have been a couple of sneezes that dampened my enthusiasm, so to speak), I am loathe to cancel the appointment. I am also loathe to go and to have yet another stranger manhandle my precious parts. What to do, what to do. If I don't go, I will have to wait for another couple of months for another appointment, I stand the risk of being branded yet again as co-dependent because I want to be available to Doug while he is under going his treatment. Oh screw it, I think I just answered my own question, who wants surgery anyway?
FYI, I just hit a bench mark! It is not a conventional bench mark like accomplishing 50% of a goal or a nice round number like 40, but it is mine. I started a weight loss journey 15 months ago as of this morning I have lost 15.6% of my starting body weight, I am 2.6 pounds away from 50% of my goal of losing 33.3% of my starting weight. Not earth shattering but not too shabby either, at this rate, I may be around for my great grandchildren. That, by the way, has also been an inside job, of the most profound kind.