Monday, October 17, 2005

Day 1

I would love to say that today went better than expected... and in many ways it didn't. But of course someone out there had to continue throwing a few surprises at me...

Took forever getting myself ready again this morning. But I looked forward to having my stitches out from the PAC so as to take a proper shower again. The (new) nurse showed up 45 minutes late and just in time to fit in with the rest of my busy schedule. I had taken my antinausea medication in the morning and, more importantly, my relaxation medication (Xanax) as well which I hoped would chill me out for both the stitches and the chemo. It certainly didn't do a great job for the stitches. She gave me the injection, in my thigh, first and quite quickly. Then got to work on the stitches. It was one long big stitch and she had to do a bit of tugging and yanking to get the damn thing out which was not enjoyable but not entirely her fault.

Once the stitches were out I was able to slap on the aesthesia path (Emla Patch) and have a quick lunch and off we went. Desney accompanied me today.

We got to the clinic on time and everyone in the chemotherapy department was really very pleasant. We were let in to the chemo room together. It actually looks like a "cave" (French basement jazz club) but with much brighter lighting. The room is a semi-circle with the "bar" in the middle where the nurses are and with wonderfully comfortable reclining chairs against the round walls.

They set me down in one of the chairs and a nurse (Barbara) came to explain everything and get started. This is when the surprises started. She went over my particular internal chemotherapy as regards what chemicals they'd be using, when and what the effects (positive and negative) were of each. First surprise was that this part of the treatment takes 3 hours each day as they run dilution fluid through me for an hour, antinausea medication for about a half an hour, the actual chemo chemical for another half hour and another dilution fluid for an hour. She explained the possible side effects of this particular chemical (fatigue, risk of kidney problems - need to drink 3 litres of water a day to avoid this, fatigue, nausea - treated by the various medications, constipation - also treated with medication, etc.). She then hit me with the second surprise. I knew I was having two different chemo treatments but I had been led to understand that they were going to be a sort of "cocktail mix" and administered during the chemo treatment at the clinic. My second chemo treatment is administered by a pump which remains attached to me, via the PAC, for 24 hours. They attach the pump to the inside of my shirt with a safety pin and they change the pump each day. I therefore have to spend all day with this big plastic pump (about 10 cm) clanging about my chest. It slowly administers the chemo product over 22 to 24 hours. There goes my dream of a proper shower. On the fourth day they remove the pump. From what I can see there is one positive aspect in that because the pump remains connected to the catheter it looks like they don't have to inject me every day and just replace the pump with the chemo connection.

She explained some of the side effects of this second chemical (fatigue again, anaemia - basically more fatigue, reduced white blood cells - risk of infection, ...). She told us about what to look out for (mouth sores, fever, ...) which should be told to a doctor when it happens. She also told us a lot of about the "real" effects of the radiation therapy in combination with chemo as they see it often. Her explanation basically went along with what we'd already heard and confirmed most of the bad news (burning on the skin outside the neck, difficulty to swallow requiring non-solid foods, less saliva and less taste). However she also appeared to believe that all of those symptoms would go away with time.

She was more helpful and provided more detailed and gentle explanation than all of the doctors we've met up to now.

Although Desney stayed with me the whole time, sitting in a much more uncomfortable chair reading her book and doing her puzzles, I kicked back with my iPod and my headphones and felt like I was on another planet. Thank God, or whoever as he and I are not communicating at the moment, for the iPod as it truly made it a more than bearable and every so enjoyable experience. With the relaxing music in both ears and my eyes closed I was in a different reality. I would only realise where I was when I would open my eyes to go to the toilet, accompanying my "date" (perf machine), every 45 minutes or so.

Once it was all over, and another nurse had strapped the pump on me, we took a taxi home where I truly started feeling exhausted.

So far so good. One day down and 55 to go... and then just getting this stuff out of my system...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hi Derek,
this is in answer to the line at the top of your blog about testing whether blogging is worth it. I've been following your progress for the past couple of weeks and am very moved by your honesty, your humour, and your courage.
You're not just a survivor, Derek, you're a fighter, and I wish you courage and strength over the next few difficult months. Everyone at APESA is rooting for you and looking forward to having you back among us soon.