To start with, my Oncologist addressed my apprehension about returning to chemo. For this I was prescribed a mild relaxant. Slip it under my tongue before leaving for my session and it would calm me down. Then there was my diet - I concentrated on a high-fibre diet (a gift from a friend in a similar situation was a box of Fibre1 cereal). More fruits and vegetables. More water. Exercising, despite my poor ability to walk was also a goal. I would bike more, and another friend would loan me her step-through bike so I would not strain my still-sore right knee. But the biggest change was one of acceptance, that this indeed would be my new life, that I am the one that needs to adapt if I am to continue my journey.
So far that morning I had eaten breakfast, taken my pre-chemo meds, and was so far not feeling anxious or sick. Already this was better than the previous time. My visit this time would see me remain in my chair, without any severe nausea. Uneventful for the most part, I sat patiently and watched as the various IV bags were changed. I still have Avastin as part of my therapy, and that alone added an hour to the process. My session had started roughly around 10:00AM, and I was finally ready to leave by 3:30PM, with my 5FU pump firmly attached and swathes of tape to hold it on. Apparently no matter how much of my chest hair I shave, it wouldn't be enough to escape the grasping, clinging tape.
I'm listless and lack any sort of energy or ambition by the time I arrive at home. However there's the feeling of satisfaction for this round, I didn't get sick, I don't feel emotionally overwhelmed. I still have two and half days to go before the 5FU pump is removed, then several days afterwards to recover. I hope I recover quicker. These sessions are similar to my previous ones five years ago, but not exactly the same. Five years ago I could walk without pain. This time I hobble and simply have no strength for all but the simplest activities.
As such, my activities consist mostly of being on the Internet, playing truly bad chess online, trying to figure out bits and pieces of electronics for my hobby. But I don't have the ability to concentrate very well. I'm tired and still don't sleep very long. Even so this sleep is better than last time. Previously I couldn't rest without feeling agitated, exhausted and unable to determine if I had actually slept. Part of that was my decision to not take some of the chemo meds supplied. Some side effects were jitteriness and constipation. This session, with the help of an aid called RestorLax I was able to manage my process much better. A higher fibre diet and more liquids helped. I was cautiously optimistic that I would fare better this session after only one day. For a change, I would be right in my assumption.
However not all was perfect. Usually I receive a call by the next day of my therapy as to when to report to the CCAC office for my 5FU pump disconnect. On a hunch I called the CCAC office, and they had not received any paperwork informing them of this action. I then proceeded to call the Cancer Center, informing them of this oversight. Late that afternoon I received my call with an appointment time for the next day. I was managing my condition.
Further management meant taking my arthritis medication -a pill and an ointment- so that my knees wouldn't cause me so much grief. It's all about finding comfort in an uncomfortable situation. Since I wasn't feeling any nausea and was eating fairly well, I opted to not take some of the chemo pills that had side effects of jitteriness and constipation. Note that this chemo causes constipation regardless, so management of this situation is important. However there would be other side effects, noticeable once the pump and was disconnected.
The disconnect happened Thursday afternoon. This will be slightly different, as I am to be part of a training session. My nurses are garbed in mask, gown and double-gloved. I have a mask and sterile cloth on my chest to protect my skin. I wait patiently as a good guinea pig should. As always the key to this process is something called a 'good blood return'. Basically blood is pulled out via the IVPort and pushed back in, demonstrating that the port is still functional. I leave the clinic free of the pump. There's now a shower in my future. Two chemo sessions down, four more to go. A CT would awaits me at the end of the sixth session to evaluate my condition and see if this treatment is working. But I don't look that far ahead anymore, my horizon is today and tomorrow.
With the pump now removed I would slowly regain some of my energy. I rode my bike when I felt I had the stamina. Rides of 20 minutes or less would be the norm, sometimes more, sometimes less. The duration was mostly dictated by my right knee. While my normal activities slowly returned, another chemo side effect presented itself: hair loss.
During my first bouts of chemo back in 2010 I had experienced some minor hair loss. At that time I went for a haircut to 'thin out the herd', and that seemed effective. My hair didn't seem to fall out, but didn't really grow either. This time my hair was falling out in rather large amounts. The bathtub after a shower looked as if a fur carpet had exploded. There was hair everywhere. Time for drastic measures. This haircut saw me with the shortest cut I've had since I was ten years old and my dad still cut my hair.
So five days after this latest session I'm pump free, and apparently hair-free as well. As the week progressed I felt better. Days were spent just trying to enjoy life -bike ride, sitting at the river watching the ships, working on small projects. There would be another doctor' appointment, this one with a specialist to look at my right knee.
Compared to my last session this one was infinitely better. I may not be able to walk worth a damn for now, but my journey continues.
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