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Well, since last Friday, I know officially that I've cancer on the side of my tongue. Next week, there will be some intense extra diagnosis fun in the hospital; and according to the results of these, then there will be therapy. This will inevitably involve a surgery at the tongue, which, according to my sources, can last 10-20 hours (it's not really something you'd want to do.)

There are several things that annoy me about all of this: from fear of loss of my ability to speak, over fear of loss of the teeth due to the x-ray therapy stuff, over to more simple things: like my cats not being allowed to visit me in the hospital (and me probably being in no shape to go and visit them too often).

And, ridiculous enough, another detail that annoys me is the fact that I'll miss out on the Zaishen quests. With the insanely long quest rotation time of the vanquishes, this means that I won't be able to take advantage of them and use them as my guide when I keep pushing Nefertari towards GWAMM... because, yeah, it's ridiculous, but I want to do that.

Yeah well, also it's scary what kind of emotions pop up at the moment. It goes from extreme, utter depression (I've had crying fits that I wouldn't have thought possible and my friends and family don't want to hear anymore about death now... how helpful); to some sort of hysteria that unleashes itself in form of some manic euphoria; over to massive anger and hate against everyone.

There are nightmares too, now. I haven't slept at all last night because one of these popped up when I was about to fall asleep.

So. I think that blogging about it might be somewhat therapeutic - and I even fit in a connection to GW! I really can't be arsed to set up a blog somewhere else right now just for this, so this here will have to do.


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  1. Lytha's Avatar
    The joys of the recovery of nervous tissue are two-sided.

    "It's nice that there's some re-growth at last!"
    "Aw goddamnit, it hurts and tickles and I'm almost crying."

    Ow. Ow. Ow.

    I wasn't even aware that the top of the left boob and the upper part of the left cheek (right below the eye) were also affected. Oh, and the back of the shoulder, too.

    The regrowth activity started yesterday evening and it does not look like it'll be done anytime soon. And it wanders about. Each affected patch of skin itches/tickles for maybe half a minute, then it's off to the next spot.

    I don't even think that I could do anything. Cooling it seems counterproductive, painkillers aren't quite appropriate. So... ow. ow. ow.
  2. Lytha's Avatar
    Whatever it is that the physiotherapist has been doing to my left shoulder, it seems that he has done quite some progress. I dared to throw a glance at my mirror image just now and the hunchback-of-Notre Dame effect was lessened a lot.

    Erm, there's need to explain this a bit, I think. Ever since August 2011, I've cramped up the "fear muscle" (the muscle that tenses whenever you're in fear) in my left shoulder. It also definitely doesn't help that several other muscles are gone from that side of the neck - the "fear muscle" is more or less the only one left, and he now has to do all the work.

    This led to a very asymmetric neckline, with the left shoulder being seemingly a lot higher than the right one.

    The physiotherapist has been working on that for 3 sessions, and it seems that there's progress. I'm glad about that.

    That aside, I had a professional tooth cleaning session today (removal of the calculus and polishing and stuff). This went worse than expected. I hadn't expected anything bad before this, but when that -male- assistant pulled out the tube that sucks stuff away while he's working, I had fits of hysteria. Last time someone had used that tube was during the biopsy of the tongue.

    Also, he was male, and the MKGs are predominantly also male. Bad associations all the way.

    He seemed somewhat unnerved by this all in the end.

    Then the dentist herself talked about half an hour with me about this all - she had been the one to whom I had walked back in July 2011 when I had noticed that something was very, very wrong.

    She said (among other things): "I'm glad to see you alive."

    Also, she apparently knows the MKG privately, who had sent me off to the clinic immediately. And he had kept her informed about me. Since he knows the dudes in the clinic very well, he probably knew more than just the letters that they gave me.

    The dentist now sends people with strange changes on the skin inside their mouths much more urgently to the MKGs than before, she said.

    Talking with her was actually extremely cool. Due to her not being one of the doctors who are now responsible for treatment or diagnostic procedures or something, but with her being someone who knows MKGers, HNOers, the clinic, and her also being a competent doctor, it was really interesting to see her reaction to my opinion on the HNOers, MKGers and the treatments.

    You see, when I tell one of the guys who treat me what the HNOers have done to me or that I'm afraid of them now, then they see the need to do something (evaluate the problem some more, find ways to cope with it, and make notes).

    She just nodded and agreed empathically. (She also doesn't like to get a tube stuffed into her nose.)

    Basically the same reaction that you get from fellow cancer patients, but I don't tend to run into these a lot; and the added bonus was that she's a pro. Having a fellow cancer patient say that he starts to puke when they put the tube into his nose or needles into his veins is one thing. Hearing a pro say basically the same has some more weight.
  3. Lytha's Avatar
    I had to walk around through bright late morning sunlight and it hurt again. In the eyes (which were blinded), on the face, on the arms. Uhm. I had thought this would be over after end of the chemo/radiation fun.

    Also, I am growing more and more neurotic concerning the regrowing hair and the two toenails with horizontal stripes. I might assault the next treating doctor about these - too bad that the next treating doctor I'll see is a MKG who won't be able to contribute anything useful to chemo/radiation side effects.

    Well, I can jump into the faces of the oncologist and the radiation therapist with these things in about one month.

    The regrowing hair is somewhat curly. I didn't have curly hair before.

    And the nails look as if they want to tell me that I'm only just halfway through from recovering of the chemo/radiation (because the horizontal lines are about at 50% of the length of the nail now).

    Whine. Whine. Whine.
  4. Lytha's Avatar

    If I don't watch it, I will hit the dreaded size zero sooner or later. No... the weight is still stable at "between 55 and 56 kg", but the legs are growing thinner and thinner. My pretty and comfortable 28/34 jeans looks like it's a few sizes too wide now.

    Since I wouldn't normally see the food therapist until in about 2 months, I made an appointment with her for the week after next.

    "I need an appointment with that food therapist of yours, because my legs are growing thinner and thinner"... I think this is a line you only hear in an oncology. Or a line that's only taken seriously in a context like that at least (since I don't think that an anorexic would actually see the need for an intervention if her legs grew thinner....)

    I'm just glad that I don't have to inject Heparin into my tummy anymore now, because this really wouldn't be fun now anymore. It's a lot easier to find a spot that doesn't hurt if there's actually some layer of fat, you see.

    But... meh.
  5. Lytha's Avatar

    I had a really horrible week, and I am not sure how the weekend will be.

    I think the trouble started with that professional teeth cleaning thing of the week before. I mentioned already that this situation had a lot of similarities to the biopsy excision event; meaning that approximately 3 flashbacks were triggered during it and high levels of anxiety were induced, starting with those gloves of his already.

    We've dealt with flashbacks in the psychotherapy and I know a method to shelve them away now. That worked in that situation as well. 3 more images for the mental folder of pictures of horror.

    The following weekend then was alright.

    However, when the week began again and I traveled to my appointments, I had flashbacks while walking around again. More and more of them. Increasing in an exponential manner. Also: when I travel with the bus to work, the fastest method is to take that one bus stop from which I have to walk along a "high traffic" road for a couple of hundred meters. This road was problematic for a while already; I tended to get "waking nightmare"-style images of nasty things while walking there, like run-over cats or humans. This got worse during last week. A lot worse.

    On Wednesday morning, the flashbacks (all concerning the biopsy / first surgery) were coming so fast after each other that I didn't have enough time to shelve them away anymore. This was rather overwhelming and the crying fits started.

    Wednesday evening/Thursday were even worse. I spent half of that night crying (well, up until 04:30 or so).

    At least half of the time I was supposed to try and work on Thursday was spent in a quiet room, crying because the unwanted memories kept coming. I left 1.5 hours earlier because it just didn't make any sense being in the office.

    The walk along that high traffic road turned dangerous at that point. I think it's obvious what I mean with that, given the mental associations I've had with that road for a while now and the mental overflow crisis.

    I called the crisis helpline and talked with him for about an hour then (he asked me to call my sister later that day), then I walked through heavy rain to my appointment at the physiotherapists. Mood swung to euphoric/manic because of that walk in the rain. It switched back to crying fits during the appointment.

    Sister told me to phone the psychotherapist. Psychotherapist scheduled an emergency session for today in the morning.

    Several helpful ideas there.

    Anyway, I was extremely agitated when I had my first appointment at the new logopedician. I guess I gave him a very horrible first impression, but he seemed tolerant enough. I'm sure he has seen worse, because, yes, he really works with adults who're in as deep or deeper crap as I am in.

    The crisis isn't that bad right NOW. Julian hopped onto my lap and that's always relaxing. He of course only did it because I didn't give them their dinner yet, but it's welcome anyway.

    Also, it helped a lot that the psychotherapist told me that this is absolutely friggingly normal for someone who went through that all and perceived it as I did.
    Updated 01-06-2012 at 18:13 by Lytha
  6. Lytha's Avatar
    Croaky -> very quiet -> croaky -> somewhat less croaky -> croaky -> diplophonic -> "normal".

    That's the stages of my voice today. The changes were induced by:

    Croaky -> very quiet: relaxation exercise in speech therapy
    very quiet -> croaky: breathing exercise in speech therapy
    croaky -> somewhat less croaky: not speaking much for some hours
    somewhat less croaky -> croaky: talking while lying down
    croaky -> diplophonic: talking some more while lying down
    diplophonic -> "normal": repeating some of the breathing exercises from speech therapy in the evening, plus a lot of humming. Suddenly, the vocal cords plopped back to synchroneous swinging.

    It's not yet really "normal", because it requires speech therapy's breathing technique and more volume than my really normal voice had. Also, holding the head forwards and downwards helps with keeping the voice like that.

    Anyway, it'll be back to croaky again next morning. I just know it. The nightly dehydration ritual ("thank you, dear radiation therapists") doesn't really help the recovery or rebuilding of the destroyed voice.
  7. Lytha's Avatar
    Yeah, been a while.

    My voice still sucks, but it has a wide variability now between diplophonic croaking and "almost normal".

    Tomorrow is the "birthday" of my diagnosis.

    And on Monday I'll hear about the results of the latest CT.

    That aside, my colitis ulcerosa decided to join the action and give me some more kicks while I was down, and that didn't really help at all. I'm kicking it now with medicine though, so far, it looks like it has already left the building for now.

    I've been doing a "never level up past level 1" in Skyrim recently and had two splendid fights against dragons already. It seems that the game will become significantly easier after a while though, because the skills do improve, while most of the foes continue to be normal bandits and simple wolves. Of course, dragon or frost troll encounters will always be exciting.

    Oh, and work goes well, by the way. It's stuff to do and not too exhausting, and the boss doesn't mind that I arrange my presence times in the office according to my other appointments. :)
  8. Lytha's Avatar
    Yo. No recurrence.

    Several psychological issues though.

    Firstly, whenever I've got a quiet moment, I'm thinking about how to react if one of the CTs will show something bad at some point. I'm informed now about palliative medicine and their "either death by respiratory suppression via morphine or death by dehydration; and we'll keep the patient sedated as well" stance, and I am horrified by this. Especially the part with the sedation. The morphine side effect or the dehydration aren't that bad.

    Anyway, I'm pretty much sure that I know what I'd want instead, but the problem would be the chat with the doctor beforehand. I know by now that they tend to take over the reigns of the patient's life if there's some sort of malignancy, and to get out of that will be difficult. And so, I'm mentally roleplaying such scenes over, and over and over again. It's distressing.

    Secondly... I had tumor after-care just yesterday. To my surprise, they jumped the chief doc of this department at me instead of one of the two assistant doctors whom I know and like by now.

    I've had 1.5 conversations with this doc so far. First contact was on the 5th October 2011, when I had starved for 5 days, the need for morphine started to become rather obvious and I was, to summarize it rather distressed. It's often said that the first impression is the ticket, and this went definitely down into the loo in this regard. Second half of a contact was in March 2012, when he looked at the lumps at my throat during one docs' visit in the hospital, because he was scheduled to cut them out. This was then rescheduled surprisingly and another guy did that extraction.

    Oh yeah... these tumor after-care things are asymmetric communication settings. Patient is placed into one of those chairs as you know them from your dentists. Doctor wields his status insignia white cloak and sits on a normal chair, eyes are greater height than the patient who is more or less in a lying position. A quick and easy way to evoke patient's submissive stance. Funnily enough, I had been thinking about just that the evening before, when I was doing another round of "what would I do if they tell me that there is something malignant again".

    So, anywaay, the after-care appointment went off on the wrong foot right away. First, I started off by asking in surprise why he was doing this appointment - which seemed to put him rather off. Then he sat down there with some extra expressionless/neutral face and asked how I was doing.


    Uhm. I told him of some things that annoy me at the moment (weight loss, dry mouth) but that I was better than 10 months ago. Then I remembered that I had the last CT thing on paper with me and could divert the topic.

    He read it and went off a bit on the liver thing. And then we were back at the alcohol abuse thing. You know, I have been recounting my wild years at university now a couple of times, and I think I've had about between a dozen or two dozen interactions with alcohol. I neither liked the taste nor the effect on the brain (the feeling that the IQ just dropped by 20 points), so I never really got into the thing. Last interaction with booze was some sort of office party when I was doing an intern, and I consumed half a glass of sparkling wine. That was in 2001. So yeah, there's definitely some sort of alcoholism issue with me, right.

    I tend to be pissed off when doctors start this topic yet again. And he did just that.

    I then told him that I had some questions and asked him (even though I rather would've asked one of the two assistant doctors...), he had difficulties understanding me because my voice is rather quiet when I've to talk while lying in a dentist's chair, but he answered the questions.

    Then he performed the tumor control and I got another episode of fright when he pulled on the gloves - nothing unusual or worse than every time before here.

    Afterwards I asked him about the scar correction thing - I am not eager for the next intubation narcosis, but I want to be sure that there isn't some sort of time limit put up by the insurance for this sort of thing. And then I remembered that I wanted to ask about when the PEG will be pulled out.

    He took the opportunity to jump at me with a: "Oh right. I wanted to ask you about this, too. Why don't you gain some weight."

    Just another awesome question. Just like "how are you doing."

    Right, anyway, he then decided for me that it would be best for me to leave the PEG in my tummy. Until I put on some weight. In other words: until I grow of old age.

    There was also the indirect notion of how useful PEGs are in a force-feeding scenario.

    The stupid thing about this is that I agree that the PEG shouldn't be removed right about NOW, but I want to have it out of me at the end of this September. That's enough time to try the oral feeding while nervously watching my weight development, I think. If I can hold the weight, it's fine, IMHO.

    But this guy just decided this FOR me, not TOGETHER WITH me. Back at "being helplessly in the hands of some other guys who make all the decisions for me". Back at what made this last year so traumatic. Bloody hell.

    So, now I'm rather pissed off and am mentally roleplaying the PEG issue as well as the recurrence incident. I'm even thinking about if removing it myself with scissors would work or if I'd be leaking all over the place then.

    Oh yeah. And he wrote down my weight and size and something with two words and a "?" behind it. I guess what this was I'll learn in 6 weeks from now, during the next tumor after-care. I'm worried that it might've been "eating disorder?" or "psychiatric consultation?" or things along that line.
    Updated 02-08-2012 at 11:11 by Lytha
  9. Lytha's Avatar
    I am alive, but it still sucks. If you ask me, there were 5 or even 10 too many radiation therapy sessions. Still doing rehab stuff, and after several months of "no progress at all anymore" and another episode of weight loss, I see now little, tiny bits of progress. Like a bit more saliva during the day, like me actually smelling and tasting a few things again, like not having had a bout of aspiration->coughing->throwing up for half a year (well, until the day before yesterday), like not being always a nervous wreck at all times no more... things like that.

    Life still sucks.

    Anyway... I've been reading in other places while I wasn't blogging here.

    One forum in particular is great. There are either hypochondriacs who think that they've cancer because they have a flu; or massively disabled people who chat about that with a bizarre air of normality.

    This was amusing, up to the very recent events. One guy's father in law has real cancer now, and the really bad sort as well (pancreas) and in the final stages. The dude apparently thought that it was pretty normal that cancer people throw up blood, have water in the belly which is removed by doctors, and that cancer people are just depressive and thus can't get up from the sofa anymore.

    Now... well... I've been spending a lot of time since my diagnosis with the repetitive re-thinking of "what would I do if there's a recurrence or another tumor", and I know what I'd never want to have friends, family or doctors do to me in such an event. Most of all, getting what I want instead of what the medical staff would probably advice, that's extremely important to me. An extraordinarily abhorrent idea would be, for instance: The idea of being dragged away from home by anyone and sent into an understaffed clinic and to die in a bed that's placed onto the corridor because all rooms are full... eh, you see the idea.

    I've the strong feeling that family, friends and medical staff see an ill or dieing person as incapable of making their own decisions like a mentally disabled child or like someone with Alzheimer, you see?

    And back to that pancreatic cancer case in that forum: What I observe there in the responses of the other posters, is exactly that.

    That father-in-law doesn't want to go to a clinic or into a hospital. He does not want anyone wearing white in his house, caring for him. His visit in the clinic must've been some sort of hell. I can relate to that.

    Now the other guys who're posting in that thread are all about "tell him to go into a clinic NOW" or "call a doctor NOW and let him drag your father-in-law to the clinic" or "YOU have to do the decisions for your mortally-afraid father-in-law now!" or "make sure he get's a PEG or parenteral food!! He must not starve!"


    Just sickening.

    I guess... it's the stupid family who survives the cancer, and their side of the story survives. Their idiotic ramblings of "Well, we dragged him to the hospital, and thus he had another 2 weeks. We were so glad about this." What the deceased one might've suffered through because of their actions is lost in his grave.

    Is it really soooo much better to die of a failing liver / failing kidneys / suffocation by metastases in the lung than to die by starvation??

    ... I. really. do. not. think. so.


    Ah man. It's just... giving me extremely bad memories and bad vibes. As if you aren't even allowed autonomy on your deathbed? ...
    Updated 15-02-2013 at 00:03 by Lytha
  10. Lytha's Avatar
    So... what have I got by now?

    - Ability to speak with an almost normal voice - unless the head is turned to the right side; unless there's a lot of noise; unless I've done too many sit-up style gymnastics; unless it's before midday; unless I am nervous or in stress; unless I want to go for pre-recurrens paresis variety of the pitch.
    - I don't quite need the water bottle at all times and after every 2nd sentence anymore.
    - according to my speech therapist, the facial muscles and the tongue muscles are a lot more accurate by now. Still lithping with the sharp "s"-sounds. Tendency to spittle a bit sometimes.
    - I fit into size 0 now, though it might be tight around the butt with some pant cuts.
    - the hair on my neck has grown for a year now and doesn't leave the pony tail all the time anymore. Less appearence of a sick dog, in other words.
    - my "Igor"-style (cp. Pratchett's Discworld) scar around the throat seems to look less horrible, according to some people. I think that may be because I'm hiding it under a scar due to the winter season at the moment though.
    - the patches on the left side of the throat which lead to immediate coughing fits when touched gently are a bit more scarce. For example: A while ago, I was in coughing fits when I touched the throat next to the left ear lobe. This is not the case anymore.
    - I don't have the PEG anymore, and exchanged the plastic tube for a nice, though not quite on centre 2nd belly button! This is quite an eye-opener whenever someone looks at my belly!
    - I've still the chemo-brain. Tried an IQ-test sample a few days ago, and oh man, no, I wouldn't be able to match the Mensa criteria anymore. But I can concentrate longer than 5 minutes when reading a book again. That's something.
    - I managed the staircases up to my flat without struggling for breath a few weeks ago. Then I lost more weight and now it's bad again. Also, back then, I could swim 40x25m without drowning. I don't dare to go swimming at the moment because I'm already getting black spots in front of my eyes when just walking around though.
    - My veins are apparently better. They don't pop open when a doctor is slapping them gently to stick a needle into it anymore.
    - My hormones are back to normal. No more annoying irregularities, just a very short cycle.
    - I've discovered recently that I can eat a few more things, though with changes to normal food preparation (meaning: I need a LOT more olive oil than normal people): I can put a "soft crumpet"-with-tomato+mozzarella+other stuff into a pan, fry it, and eat it. With a lot of olive oil, I can eat potato-bags filled with creamed cheese. I have discovered that I can mix a whole lot of kcal bombs together (i.e. cream, miracle whip, sour cream) with some spices and get me a sauce that fits to most things.
    - the last coughing fit "until the dinner revisits by the entrance" was 3 days ago; but that one was a lot easier to my nerves than the one before in summer of last year.
    - I'm also much calmer now when some food particles, like the outer skin of an aubergine, decides to visit both trachea and esophagus at the same time. The mean ***er actually left the trachea on its own when I just kept eating, after neither coughing nor a few swallows of water didn't dislodge it.
    - Yeah... "sweet" is gone from my life, it seems, but salty, umami, sour and bitter are back. I actually happen to have "bitter" as a phantom taste present at all times for a while now, but that's not bad at all.
    - Smell is still wobbly. There are still occurrences with "smell bombs", but at least I don't feel like throwing up then anymore. What I mean with that... well, normally, smell is very, very muted now. But sometimes, some smell comes across extremely smelly. Walking as a vegetarian past the meat area of the grocery shop was good fun for a while. The meat salesgirls hate me by now, I think. Nothing like a customer who walks past them, suddenly starts gagging, covers her nose and mouth and gives them a frightened look. Oh yean.
    - The chemo welts are gone from my toe nails. :p
    - speaking in AD&D terms, I think I lost a lot of appearance, constitution, strength and sadly some intelligence. Gained a few points in wisdom and charisma though. Very absurd.
    - PTSD-style flashbacks and intrusions are a bit more rare now, though there still are a lot of triggers. Getting a CT is still one of the usual culprits, or having to enter the radiation therapy building or even seeing one member of that department's staff.
    - Nervous tissue in the left cheek, left earlobe and left side of throat is still busy. Tickle, tickle, pinch, pinch. I felt warmth and cold there, recently. Oooooh yeah.

    And, oh yeah, I am -so far- free of recurrences or secondary tumors.

    Ewwww. It became a wall of text.
    Updated 15-02-2013 at 14:02 by Lytha
  11. Lytha's Avatar

    Things are improving. I've discovered, for instance, that I can eat half a portion of microwave french fries; if I add my extremely fatty dip sauce, that is. And they don't taste totally crappy, and they're getting better at aiming at the esophagus instead of into the trachea. Black olives also work, and they even work as a snack. That is: YES: I actually eat asides from the 1 evening meal/day now. Occasionally.

    Anyway. There's something that upset me a few days ago, immensely that is.

    You guys know that I had a neck dissection, right? A "modified radical neck dissection type I", to be precise. Left side is now missing: submandibular saliva gland, vena jugularis, musculus sternocleidomastoideus, some more tiny muscles between thyroid glands and clavicula/jawbone. As well as all subdermal fatty issue and all the lymph nodes they could grab.

    This leads to some problems with holding the head upright (especially if the bus driver uses the brakes vigorously), and with raising the head when lying on the ground - situps are so much fun now. Also some other disability issues with some exercises. Turning/rotating the head is clumsy.

    And it looks bad, due to the asymmetry and due to the fact that you can now see my arteria carotis in plain sight. This is what idiot chicks in the bus tend to stare at, especially in summertime when I flaunt it by wearing short sleeves and cleavage.

    So. Right. I'm getting used to it.

    Up until 2 months ago, the entire region of the skin was totally numb. Now the prickling, pinching and twitching has seen some successes. First, I had a sudden excruciating pain in this area, when walking around outside in the snow. Some Novalgin helped.

    Last week, I experienced the same in the office. No Novalgin available there.

    The pain was as if you have a cramp in some muscle. Alright? AS IF, I am not thinking that I actually had a cramp. Because the pain was just outside of my skin. Precisely where normal people have a sternocleido. Phantom pain / missing limb pain, I suppose. It went away after a few hours.


    I also thought that it was the normal way neck dissections in cancer cases like this were done - I see plenty of people without sternocleido(s) in the tumor check-ups.

    So, my natural first move was to go into the tongue cancer survivor group (that's in an internet forum; I don't know any of them personally) and ask them about what they do with their phantom pains in the missing sternocleidos. I also mentionend that it felt "like a cramp".

    Apparently, most people get a type III neck dissection, not a type I.

    The first answers were incredulous. "What? Your sternocleido was removed?? WHY IS THAT???" - or "Are you SURE???" - or "You must be MISTAKEN!" - or even "If you have a cramp in the muscle, then the muscle can't have been removed!" (WTFFF)

    I'm feeling like a leper amongst lepers currently. The freak among the freak show.

    Updated 17-03-2013 at 12:43 by Lytha
  12. Lytha's Avatar
    Good news. I managed to eat some pasta with cheese out of the oven today. Granted - it was more cream and salt and veggies than pasta, and it was a tiny portion and it grew stone cold before I was finished, but I did eat it. A year ago, I'd have called this sort of food something valuable and lost from the past.

    With food, it's weird at the moment. Basically, I have my mental list of about half a dozen things that I can eat.

    Every once in a while, a thought happens in my mind that something was yummy a long time ago / that something might just work now, perhaps.

    Then I think about it for a week or longer, sometimes walking past it in the store, looking at it. Mostly deciding that it won't work or will be disgusting anyway.

    After these long ponderings, I may acquire this object a while later anyway; prepare it how I have thought about how it may work now (for instance: buns with cheese are a no-no, but if I soften up the bun with milk and mix it up with an egg and fry it, I can somewhat have a bun with cheese), and at the moment, I experience the surprise that it works indeed quite a few times.

    Of course, with disappointments. Chips (that's crisps for the UK people) taste like cardboard paper. The formerly yummy bun with tomatoes+mozzarella from the bakery required a lot of oil and a frying pan and tasted like meh anyway. There are insane amounts of salt and pepper and oil that have to be added into everything.

    Oh yeah, and "sweet" is still gone out of my life. A neighbour gave me a chocolate easter egg today. :( I don't know what to do with that one. Rubbish bin or give it to someone else, I guess.
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