and now the rest of the story...

I was saddened to hear that Paul Harvey passed away. Not that it has anything to do with this post really - other than the plagiarized title. I tend to "tangent" frequently in discussions, which tends to drive those in discussion with me a bit crazy - but as an old friend recently said when I tried to blame it on the chemo "You have been doing that since you were 14" -Apparently you are stuck on the ride with me.

I promised to tell you how my chemo cycle plays out but only got through the chemotherapy infusion itself. The evening of the infusion is what I imagine the 3rd day awake on a cocaine trip must be like. I am tired but can't really seem to stop moving - a side effect of the steroids within my cocktail. Once I came home and cooked until 6am, pots flailing, pans flying, oven, stove top and crock pot all going at once. By the time the steroids wore down and it came to eat the food, I wanted nothing to do with it. The very smell of those particular dishes sickened me. So, needless to say, that didn't work.

The day after chemo and the day after that, I am still on the steroid high and by the evening (which is more like the middle of the day for me, having stayed up all night and then slept until mid afternoon) I begin to flush. My face feels warm and has a red, jolly-holly, Santa Claus-esk glow. This is not my favorite occurrence as I have an aversion to "Jolly-holly says", "Holly Holy", "Deck the halls with boughs of holly", and "Have a holly jolly Christmas" due to an apparent leftover grade school anxiety and unresolved issues with my parents' naming choices. It was also a fabulous occurrence when I was still working: clients must have thought I had more than coffee in my coffee cup.

The steroids dissipate and then the crash happens. For me it was on the 3rd day or Friday evening of chemo week. I would start feeling flu-ish: body aches (especially my legs), fatigue, loss of appetite (though I managed to eat, it is what my family does, and we do it well). I would generally get out my favorite blanket, find some movies and nap as much as I could all weekend long. By Monday I would try and convince myself that I felt normal. I felt better but "normal" functioning didn't occur until a full week after treatment. And with each chemo session the crash was slightly more intense and the effects lasted a little bit longer. It was tolerable - not fun, but not so bad that it couldn't be handled. It was a really intense week long hang over; but somehow you weren't smart enough to avoid drinking again 3 weeks later.

My naturopath's therapies and my acupuncture treatments lessened the effects for me. When I was able to receive 2 additional chemo session, I could tell the vast difference between the last set of treatments when I didn't have a naturopath and this set. At the first diagnosis, I used the shotgun approach for adjunct treatments - if it reportedly helped and was accessible, I tried it. I was surprised when I could feel the difference when I attended my acupuncture appointments verses when I skipped them. I can tell my energy level drops when I miss an appointment even now. There are links in the right hand column to the practitioners and programs I use - and obviously I think they are the best or I wouldn't be using them.

The last treatment was an exception -it was the only time I had a problem with nausea. The chemo "flu bug" turned into a raging and persistent "flu dragon on the attack" I had gone out of town for the week before treatment and didn't watch what I ate or drank. I missed acupuncture and shiatsu appointments and didn't take the supplements from my naturopathic doctor. I went against the advice of a friend and did not act like a "good animal": I wasn't taking care of the physical over the "shoulds" or "wants" of the mental and emotional and I paid the price.

Now I am dealing with the longer lasting effects of fatigue, shift of my sleep cycle and regaining physical strength. Also, I am anxiously awaiting the return of my eyebrows -you don't know what you've got until its gone. So that is the rest of the story as Mr. Harvey said countless times over countless years.

the question

So I was asked the question again - not that I mind the question; sometimes I answer it without being asked. I always thought I was more of a quiet type - apparently that is not true. When they gave me the pre-anesthesia med before a surgery to install my chemotherapy port, every one I passed became my VERY BEST friend - I think I even asked the nurses if I could use the phone. The point is I may like to hear my own voice a bit too much in certain situations - and "the question" seems to be just one of those situations.

The question: "So... (insert their personal story of someone they knew/know with cancer here) but what is chemotherapy like?" It is hard to answer that question - because every patient has a different experience based on their "chemo cocktail" formulated for their specific disease and their reaction to it. I only can tell you how it is for me. My chemotherapy sessions are once every three weeks on a Tuesday and last most of a business day.

They start in the morning after drawing blood from my port (a device inserted under the skin in my chest that is attached to tubing running directly into a major artery to my heart). There are several IV bags that make my "cocktail". After a bag of saline, I get about a forty-five minute dose of antihistamine, steroids and anti-nausea meds. This is followed by the Carboplatinum which takes a few hours - but by then the antihistamine has knocked me out and I am sleeping peacefully on a over sized recliner with a warm, snugly blanket covering me. I usually wake about half way through the Carbo. Sadly, there are an abundance of patients around if you want to start up a conversation. You tend to make friends with those on the same schedule - your monthly chemo cocktail party.

Another nap or some dinking around on the computer, maybe a chapter in a book or a conversation and the final thirty minute bag, Taxol, gets attached to Fred. (Sorry - should explain that one. Fred is my IV pole - we dance together every time I want to get up for some water or to go to the restroom. I figured since he spent so much time dancing with me that he should have a name - and I choice to name him after Fred Astaire as he is a pretty good dancer not to have stepped on my feet once during our sessions.) Then it is over and the fun begins - ok well maybe fun is not the word. But I am going to have to leave that for the next posting.