Today I had my first chemo

Wow, that sounds like a title from something I wrote when I was like seven years old. Except the chemo part. No way could I have spelled that. I still struggle. 

So, mentally I was pretty unprepared for today. I did not realise quite how crap I would feel afterwards. I mean it will be some sort of miracle if I don’t throw up. I’ll let you know how I go. Something for you to look forward to. The ‘positive thoughts’ and ‘bright-eyed-bushy-tails’ attitudes that have been recommended to me, attitudes that I have been implementing, up until now, with a degree of success, can lead to an abundance of naivety. This seems to be the case with me.

Let’s get into it then. For starters I have picked up a cold. It is winter after all, a minor cold is to be expected. Although, I am slightly immunocompromised and my memory lymphocytes aren’t really working as they should, so the cold is taking a little longer to clear than it probably normally would. But the medical team were happy to go ahead with the chemo, so great. My husband and I had expected the appointment to last around four hours, however it ended up being more like nine hours. There was a pre-treatment briefing with all the legal mumbo jumbo (no ACC here so you have to sign your life away for everything), which we knew about and had included in our four hour limit. Then we had to wait around for the blood results (yeah sure, let’s blame the lab) because the pharmacy won’t release the drugs if my neutrophils are too low. Then we had to wait for the pharmacy. 

That took a couple of hours or so. I got to know the nurse quite well. She had lived in New Zealand for twelve years, owns a house on Waiheke Island and loves the Mussel Inn. We got along. The nurses were struggling with the radio so my husband fixed it, but he could only get the BBC classical music channel and I think everyone thought it was our choice of music and that we were really highbrow or something. Obviously we are not.  So we had classical music playing throughout our nine hours, which isn’t the worst choice, but certainly not my first.

By now the drugs have arrived and things start to move pretty quickly. The chemotherapy regime I am on is ABVD. It is given intravenously with some other supplements; some anti-nauseas, hydrocortisone and some other steroids. All was going fine and dandy for about thirty minutes or so until I got to the ‘V’ part. V stands for Vinblastine, which sounds like some sort of French wine explosive (yes I know I am meant to be a scientist). Anyway, the drug apparently goes straight into the central nervous system. All I can say is that as this drug is being infused, I am starting to feel pretty agitated. Wriggling in my seat, feet won’t stay still, kind of feel restless in my skin. And it’s hard to know right? Am I being over sensitive? It is my first time and you know you read and re-read and then sign that you’ve re-re-read and then get told in triplicate about the side effects, so is it the drug? Is this why I am feeling agitated? Or is it because I have been sitting in the same chair for six hours and probably haven’t eaten enough?

Whilst sitting there pondering this internal conundrum, the ‘D’ (D stands for dacarbazine) infusion started. The plan is for it to be infused over thirty minutes, and it is the last drug I need to be given. But when the infusion starts my vein begins to hurt. Like really really really hurt. When I had some fluids in December the infusion hurt a little, and it hurt a bit more when I was given some plasma, but this was well… it was just like wow. I am having flashes of how Harry must have felt in Requiem for a Dream. They say one of the drugs can hurt during infusion, so I’m thinking “is this the hurty one? Is this normal?” Yes my brain was using the word ‘hurty’. I couldn’t handle it, I was writhing. I wussed out and told my husband and the nurse turned down the infusion rate (Nurse: “Oh is this ‘The Flight of the Bumble Bee’ on the radio?” Me: “I really wouldn’t know”), which eased the pain but it didn’t completely subside so they turned it down again and the infusion that should have been 30 minutes long is now taking 1 hour 30 minutes.  

Then it is time to start getting itchy. And itchy and itchy. My right shoulder is itchy, and the back of my head and neck is itchy, and a small patch on the inner of my right thigh is itchy. The last place was a dodgy one to scratch. I have always been a pretty itchy person, so was sitting there mindlessly scratching away at my itches, when somewhere deep in the far reaches of my brain, two brain cells must have decided to have a little chat (or synapse for the nerds out there). Eventually they let the other cells in on what they’d been chatting about and kindly pointed out to my conscious self that it is really quite odd for my right shoulder to be itchy and red and hot to touch. Ok, I am now happy that this may be one of those pesky side effect things that I need to mention. It is no big deal, mild reaction - intravenous antihistamine cleared it up, but by now I am feeling crappy and itchy and hungry and I need the toilet like every ten minutes and I still have an hour and half to go and then because of this pesky reaction I need a chest x-ray afterwards. And in my hangry, pitiful state I have decided it is all my husband’s fault. Which of course it most definitely is not. But try and tell hanger Liv that. The x-ray was clear just for the record.

So having entered the hospital at 8am, we got home at 6pm. Thai for dinner was most certainly the wrong choice. Fatigue, nausea, restlessness, snotty nose and a strong feeling of disappointment are the main features apparent to me as I am curled up in bed feeling rather sorry for myself. I have kept the food down though, you’ll be pleased to know. I am sure no one wants to learn what regurgitated tofu green curry looks like, although I imagine it is probably not much different to what it first looked like.

Things I have learned today:

• Add at least two hours to my expected time limit

• I am going to feel crap during the chemo

• I am going to feel crap after the chemo

• I need to eat more

• I need to bring food and water for my poor patient husband

• We most certainly were the rookies of the day ward

(Written 12/1/14)