Yes, because if you could smell what I smell right now, you’d probably stop reading and walk away from your computers. Then again, laying in bed next to me, Chris insists he smells nothing but who knows if he’s being kind.
So here’s the thing (and feel free to call me crazy), but I swear these chemicals they pump into me as a part of chemo have a scent as they leave my body through whatever means they choose (and yes, I do mean urine and sweat – hey I never promised not to gross you all out, just to tell you what I think).
Clyde and Dave were harsh, and I’d swear I’d smell this acrid, chemical odor for days (each treatment lasting longer than the one before). When I couldn’t smell it any more, well, that would be about the time I’d start to feel better. Coincidence?
Well, it seems Taxol has its own odor too. Last cycle, I thought I smelled from all the Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Cheddar crackers I wolfed down in one semi-delirious state. But nope, it’s back, and it’s cheezy, and it must be the Taxol leaving my system.
Chris just thinks my sense of smell has been compromised. I’m thinking if this continues, someone better bring me a big bag of cheeze doodles to satisfy the craving.