Chemo Cycle 2 Complete
I’m finally free! Free from the bulky bag of poison that’s been strapped to me for the past 5 days, that is. I started this round of chemo on Monday 8/10 at 8:30 am. My lovely husband took the day off work to take me and pick me up and it definitely felt like the first day of school. I wasn’t sure what to expect or what all I should bring and I was overall nervous. This round of chemo was going to be a lot different than my last where I was chained to a hospital bed and I was certainly looking forward to the freedom of getting to sleep in my own bed, but of course I was anxious to bring poison home with me. I had a bag packed with my laptop, phone, book, fuzzy socks, snacks, coloring books, blanket - everything I thought might help the time pass by quickly.
I remember checking in at the front desk and making my way to the elevator all the while thinking - how did this happen, why is this happening, how did I get here. I’m trying my best to push these thoughts out, but it hit me like a wall as I made my way up to the dreaded 6th floor of the hospital - just the absurdity of it all. I was kind of hoping to see other young(ish) people up there - make some chemo friends. But no such luck - it was mostly elderly folks in wheelchairs and me with my coloring books.
My Monday session of chemo was the longest day in the cancer center since my particular infusion starts with a 4 hour bag of Rituximab before getting hooked up to my first of 4 red devil bag. These bags include a chemo cocktail consisting of Doxorubicin, Vincristine, and Etoposide (Fun Fact - it’s the Vincristine that causes the neuropathy). Then my week would end with a 1 hour bag of Cyclophosphamide. In addition to the bags, my treatment also includes 5 Prednisone pills a day for the 5 days. First thing we did was go over the dosages which I learned had all been increased from my last chemo round except for the Vincristine. They seem very concerned that the neuropathy could get worse, become painful, or even permanently damage the nerves in my fingers if they increase this drug. Apparently most patients don’t feel this side-effect until after 2 or 3 rounds and I felt it after the 1st round. We’re all hoping that by reducing the Vincristine that won’t set my treatment schedule back or have cause for added cycles which I’m already preparing myself for. I had a call with my oncologist this week to discuss the pros and cons - do we risk permanent nerve damage to kill the cancer faster or do we risk not killing all of the cancer quick enough to avoid permanent nerve damage?
They started it out slow to see how my body would react and then each 30 minutes after checking my vitals, they would increase the speed. When that bag was done I got red bag #1. There was some confusion as to how the pump worked that I would be attached to for the week and then I looked around and saw that there were no other patients with pumps. Everyone else there was only there for a few hours to get their 1 bag of chemo and then they were detached, set free, and told to return in a few weeks for their next round. I suddenly found myself jealous of these people who got such an “easy go”. I don’t say this to at all imply that what the other cancer patients are going through is somehow easier than what I’m going through, but just that recurring self pity, poor me, blah blah blah. I just kept thinking what a luxury it must be to only have to get a few hours of chemo and that’s it for a few weeks!?! This was what I had been expecting when I was first diagnosed - I, for one, had no idea that someone could get 100+ hours of chemo at a time. Let’s let that sink in. 100+ hours. After all was said and done, this week I got poison pumped into a direct line leading to my heart non-stop for over 107 hours. I could go on an on about the inability to get comfortable carrying around a 1,000 ml bag of fluid in a messenger bag with tubes sticking out of my arm that makes whooshing robot sounds for 5 days with no showers - but I think you all get the point. It sucks. I keep telling myself that they are acting aggressively because they know I can take it - that my body can take it - that I’ll be able to recover from it. I don’t think these older people sitting around me in the chemo center would be able to handle that much, but they think I can.
So from Monday morning to Friday evening I did my best to take it easy, not complain, not stress, and let the medicine work. I did a LOT of laying on the couch while I was home - something my kids are quite used to these days - and each day I got to return to the 6th floor to finish up what was remaining in my bag and then get hooked up to the next one to run it’s course over the next 24 hours. Timing was tricky and sometimes due to delays or overfilled bags I would be in the chemo center for 1, 2, or 3 hours. I was feeling pretty good for the first few days - no major change in my energy, no nausea, no headaches - big difference from my last round in the hospital where I was crippled with throbbing headaches which now they think had to be caused by the lumbar puncture. They’ve assured me I won’t need to do that again. Thursday and Friday I started feeling really tired and groggy and overall icky. I’ve compared it to what it would be like to be hungover on a road trip - not too bad all things considered. Starting Saturday I’m back to getting my daily injections of Neupogen to keep my white blood count up. I dread these shots so much for the impending bone pain they cause - but thankfully I have nurse mom back for those. She’s a regular pro now - no bruises or anything. Of course this all means that once again the countdown has begun to my 3rd cycle that will begin Monday 8/31 - only 16 days free of the bag before my swift return to the 6th floor.
Big shout out to my wonderful family who have done nothing but take care of me, and drive me back and forth to appointments, and watch my kids while I’m unable to so my husband can work, and send us amazing meals, and let my kids to run around Downtown Disney while they wait for me at the hospital, and on and on and on. I am constantly reminded how loved I am and how many people are thinking about me and wishing for my health to return quickly. Nobody deserves this. Cancer sucks. Chemo is terrible. I am worth the fight. I am doing my best. I will get through this.
