Thanks to all who sent anti-nausea spirits to guard me last night. I slept well woke up feeling much better, just a slight momentary wobbliness when I first got out of bed, but it went away quickly. I decided to take Jessie to the park since I'm not sure how I will react to the injection of NuLasta scheduled for this afternoon. The park was as always (especially at 6:30 in the morning) peaceful and peace-giving. The heron was back on her old perch, the small float in the back of the pond. I read a little more about great blue herons and now believe she (still not sure about gender) is an immature / juvenile great blue heron. That explains why she does not yet have the feathery crest features of the adult heron. While Jessie and I passed the pond, 2 separate gaggles of Canadian geese came in for watery landings. The first group landed, and squawked and honked up a storm. A moment or two later, the second group landed. More squawking and honking joined the first group. It sounded like... I don't what.... a big family reunion where people hadn't seen each other in ages It was great.
Now to catch up on cancer-specific news - I have now taken my morning-after treatment meds (Emend and 2 of the steroid pills), plus the B1, B6 and B12 vitamins recommended by nurse E to counter the chemo side effect of tingling/numbness in the fingers and toes. I'm feeling every so slightly shaky, the way you might if you hadn't eaten anything for a while. So I ate my usual yogurt. My sense of taste seems a little affected, sort of a background after taste present in my mouth, but I didn't notice it until I took the meds. I'm wondering if it is associated with the B-vitamins, which weren't coated, just plain tablets, and have a strong odor. I sure did enjoy my morning coffee before Jessie and I sent to the park!
Back to yesterday: I'm going to try to describe as much of yesterday's treatment and my feelings about it as I am able to, so bear with me if this is long (there are only 6 of these treatments scheduled in total, and I can't imagine I'll have as much to say about the others as this one).
Helen and I arrived a little early. I was weighed and had blood drawn. A short wait and we were taken to a private treatment room (Nurse E had said she tries to put first timers in private rooms versus the group treatment room). We waited some more. My blood pressure was taken (120/80 - high for me, but lower than when I met with Dr. R), pulse and temperature. Waited some more. Nurse E came by and met Helen and went over the treatment schedule. She returned with pre-treatment meds. I can't remember them all, but they included 1 or more pills from my stash of the prescribed steroids, one of my $100/pill Emend doses, an alternative to Benedril (which I can't take) to deal with potential allergic reaction to one of the chemo drugs), and some other pills that I failed to ask about. We then waited about an hour for all those meds to start working.
The first chemo drug was the Paclitaxel (which is familiarly if not affectionately referred to as "Taxel") - the one to which a small percentage of patients have extreme allergic reactions. As a result, for the first hour, the IV is released very very slowly with alarms set every 10-15 minutes, for a stop and check. Either Nurse E or a nurse B was in the room with me for most of that hour, a measure I guess of the seriousness of the potential allergic reaction. Nurse B is the shift manager or something like that. I liked her. She has a cool spiky short hair cut and advised me that there is a very good chance my post-chemo hair will grow back in curly. Since I've coveted curly hair my whole life, this is a small something to look forward to (apart from generally putting all this behind us). At any rate, I got through the first hour with no problems and nurse E let the IV run normally and told me it would be 3 more hours.
Helen and I had lovely talks as long as she was able to stay, which was several hours. Then I listened to podcasts on my iPod with the uncomfortable treatment chair ( I have to say it, I feel bad criticizing anything about the cancer center which seems like a good and caring place - but these treatment chairs ... man oh man) reclined. Apparently they came around offering lunch while I was doing this and thought I was asleep. So the first drug finished, and I was hooked up with the second which takes an hour. I got up and peed a couple of times (one restroom is shared by 2 private treatment rooms). I asked about lunch and nurse E found some for me. A plain turkey sandwich on wheat bread, container of applesauce and a slice of Sara Lee pound cake. The turkey sandwich tasted great (I like my sandwiches plain). Later in the day I spoke with V and she told me that when A went through chemo, the steroids they gave him made him ravenous. Likely that's what was going on with me, because I don't think I ever devoured a simple turkey sandwich with as much gusto. David arrived about then; we split the pound cake. The second chemo drug finished. Nurse E went through my post-treatment instructions for meds. We changed my NuLasta appointment from Friday am to Thursday (today) at 3:00 pm. And we left.
When I got home, I was still ravenous. I drank a diet coke and had some chips and then some crackers. My daughter called, and I spoke to V and to J. I had an early dinner of the chicken soup David had made the day before. I rested, napped, and was awakened by a rush of nausea. Once I sat up, it dissipated. But I could hardly keep my eyes open and I really longed to lie down and sleep, but was afraid to. Slight to moderate nausea came and went. Finally, about 8 pm, I gave in and took an anti-nausea tablet nurse E had previously called in for me.
During the treatments themselves, I didn't have a lot of physical (or emotional) reactions. Once or twice I felt a flush come up in my face. I was getting glucose through the IV before the treatment, and as is usual with that, I could feel the coldness of the glucose in my arm. The IV site didn't hurt at all; in fact, nurse E put in the IV so gently that I barely felt it. Emotionally, I felt a little bit all day long as if I were waiting for that proverbial shoe to drop (a cliche brought to mind perhaps by the fact that Helen and I talked shoes for some time). Seriously what I mean is that I kept waiting for something bad to happen - to have something hurt, or to have that extreme or any other allergic reaction, or to see that certain gleam of "uh oh" in the eyes of nurse E or nurse B and know something wasn't right. But none of that happened.
I was thinking about this on my walk in the park this morning, and I realized that my past health/medical experiences haven't prepared me for cancer treatments. This isn't like a big buildup to a surgery, after which there is a period of recovery. This is a long term on-going experience that varies, changes and accumulates over time. Yesterday was just passing through the entry gate to what is going to be a way of life, both during the months of treatment and to a certain extent, even afterwards, with post-treatment follow up appointments for years, likely (if I am lucky, for many, many years).
And during treatment, the new way of life will bring chemo side effects to deal with, which have only lifted a cold little nose and nudged me under the arm, so to speak, to get my attention so far. They have not yet sunk their fangs in me or even nipped me hard (perhaps the side effects of the NuLasta injection will bring that new experience). So far only some fatigue (some of which was "naturally" based on lack of sleep - surprise! surprise!). A little nausea combined with ravenous cravings for food (ha!). B-vitamins based short-term affect on taste. Clearly I'm still a cancer neophyte.
That's it for now. Thanks for bearing through a long post. I think I'll go try to enjoy the day before the NuLasta injection this afternoon.
Peace.
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