Chemo

I’m not feeling particularly entertaining regarding this first cycle of chemo, as nothing particularly notable happened. On that day, as it turns out, Jess and I were more chill than chuckle, and that’s actually a good thing. Had we had a blast laughing all day, the crash I experienced later would have been hardcore. Instead, I think the experience remaining low-key is something for which I must be grateful.


The best thing I have to report is that it went by quickly, as Jess can also attest (and I don’t think she’s bs-ing me just to make me feel better for taking advantage of her generosity of friendship). I’ve truly decided that the reason these hideously UNfun procedures can be so pleasant is that I approach them with my ever-praised “positive attitude,” as well as a bit of a sense of adventure. It’s like when I tell people that all of those things that go wrong on your wedding day (such as when the curtains caught on fire at the front of the church and the dog ran down the aisle in the middle of the ceremony on the day of my own nuptials) can make for awesome stories to laugh over later… Crap-surviving stories hold that same appeal.

But interacting with new people has always been appealing to me as well, and so the time passes quickly when engaged in meaningful conversations with other individuals who have devoted their lives to helping others. At my cancer clinic, at least, it seems that everyone I encounter is truly golden-hearted, and their smiles alone are a soothing balm to my nerves, my wounds, and any chemo-induced discomfort. Unfortunately, however, one of the very issues over which I bonded with my darling Angel (no lie – that’s my chemo nurse’s name!) turned out to be mistake #1 from which I learned a major lesson the hard way. Angel was curious about the nutrious snack choices I had packed to help ward off fatique, nausea, and other discomforts that are compounded when one has not fueled her body properly. That day, mine included organic freeze-dried peas, corn, tomatoes, carrots, and bell peppers, plus “Super Snacks” made of organic banana, coconut, sprouted sesame seeds, and spirulina. These are nutritional powerhouses, for sure, and complemented my “Magical Mineral Broth” quite well --- until evening came and the fiber that had built up in my midsection was causing me insane discomfort, as well as threatening to push everything I had eaten right back up my esophagus. Trust me: when chemo itself may lead to constipation, the LAST thing you want to do is OVERdo it on fibrous foods that – though eventually move easily through you – also keep you feeling full longer as they take an insanely llllllooooooooonnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggg freaking time to digest. I was in AGONY.

I will probably not report this to Angel when I return.

What I will report, however, is the agonizing headache I endured from about 6 pm to 3 am. And I do not deal well with headaches. Luckily, my darling daughter does, and she was a fabulous nurse. The steroids did allow me to doze off later in the evening, and I woke to find myself on the couch in the dark at about 11 pm. Ellie had turned off the lights and t.v. and tucked herself into bed at some point, probably exhausted from getting up every fifteen minutes to get me water, tea, Vicodin for the headache I finally decided I had to treat with additional drugs, a smoothie, a different kind of tea, more water, a cold compress, how about some of that cup-a-soup that’s way in the back of the cabinet? Oh, and could you bring me a pillow and a softer blanket and turn down the t.v. and shut off the fan and adjust the lights and don’t breathe quite so loudly…….. That kid is a SAINT, I’m telling you. When I heard her getting up at 4 am to get a drink, she gladly brought me some water, too, and offered to get me my anti-nausea meds so that I could feel up to eating breakfast in a couple hours so I could start the round of steroids all over again without them eating a major hole in my stomach. When she got up at about 8 and found me back on the couch, sleeping through the Today show, she simply went in the other room and entertained herself, then gladly made me breakfast at 9:30 when I decided I would officially wake up for the day (I swear the hours between 11 and 4 only resulted in about 2 hours of sleep, after all, as the steroids kept me tossing and turning most of the time). Someday I hope she will be a strong, super capable woman for having gone through this with me now. That means this MUST be a positive experience for her, too, right?

But back to the chemo itself… I had no idea that I was going to have about twenty gallons of chemicals pumped into my body that day. I truly believe the way to get through chemo crap is to remain in denial until you are forced to face it head on, for if you were to vividly visualize the amount of toxic chemicals that would be coursing through your veins, you would run screaming long before they came anywhere near you with a needle. Luckily, the 9 or 10 huge vials that Angel “pushed” into my port by hand yielded none of the nightmarish side effects possible at the time, and the slowly increasing drip into my IV never had to be slowed or stopped from a reaction. Thus Jess and I were able to wonder in mere curiosity at the amount of fluid piped into me in what felt like record time rather than cursing it. The port allows direct connection to my jugular vein -- no tissue damage from blown IVs, no horrific pain at the site of insertion. I did, however, feel a lovely little “I’m on drugs” buzz that Angel said is a result of the Benadryl (YAY Benadryl!!) and enjoyed that fuzziness enough to sincerely not mind when Jess ate a delicious-looking salmon with Greek salad in front of me (I was unyet aware of the adverse effects my super foods were to have on me ). And since we were released early enough to avoid the major traffic delays, we made it home in decent time. All in all, not a bad day.

I would describe more in detail my relief at being able to poop and release the liquid that all of that fiber also soaked up like a sponge, but whoops – look at that… I need to jump in the car and go pick up my sister from the airport. At long last my true cancer-crap partner has returned from two weeks in Europe and I must regale her with lives stories of all the cancer fun I’ve celebrated without her. More later… But lucky for you, by then I will have gotten past digestive issues and moved on to something more pleasant – I hope.