I stink. I don’t mean just because I just walked the dog wearing four layers of clothing on a warm spring morning (I get cold), but there seems to have been a fundamental shift in my body chemistry. I don’t smell like myself anymore.
The chemo had one last laugh sometime between the end of my treatments and the surgery. Nothing serious, but my thumbnails now look like troll claws, I lost the remaining hair under my arms and the chemical stink oozing out of my pores means I’m showering as often as possible and wearing out deodorant sticks at a furious pace. When I came out of surgery I had thought the smell was coming off the hospital issued gowns and slips of paper they call bedsheets, but alas, the first night home in my own bed confirmed that it was in fact, coming from me.