I'm sure cancer patients around the world will join me in the sentiment. The doctor very kindly wrote me a prescription for these little magical pills of happiness on Thursday after my latest appointment. At 17 full weeks the nausea not only remained, but seemed to be getting worse. The daily schedule was generally predictable. Miserable all morning, puke in shower, puke again brushing teeth, have breakfast, puke before or after lunch, have early dinner, puke before bed. It seemed like most of the rest of my time in between sick calls was spent drooling into a mixing bowl waiting to be sick.
Now that we're entering the fifth month, I've officially lost six pounds, and am having no fun whatsoever. "Sticking it out" no longer seems like a viable alternative, so we opted for some antiemetics.
Hooray! Now I can have salad again without wondering how the little bits of soggy lettuce will look floating in the toilet. My human dignity has been restored.