CHEMO-SABI

Today is the second full day since getting chemo on Friday. Thankfully (all praise going to God, of course) I haven't had any of the really nasty side effects of chemo I was dreading. No nausea (tummy a little upset, but not too bad), vomiting, diarrhea, extreme fatigue. NONE of it! Haven't even had to take an anti-nausea med yet. Not one!

I do feel really tired today, though. A little out of sorts and bored as all get out. Thought I'd take this opportunity, before I get deliriously tired, to write about my chemo experience. Here goes:

HOW CHEMO WORKS
There is a room at the doctor's office and in it are six or so Lazy-Boy recliners each with one of those pole things that hold up IV bags. You walk in and pick an open chair, sit down and then you begin asking all the people in the room (who are getting chemo) "what are you in for?". You learn about Deb, fighting breast cancer for a second time (it has spread to other places, but she is responding well to treatment). You learn about Celia who you suspect is from Scotland, and she is - Glasgow to be precise. She had kidney cancer that spread to other places, she is a bit too out of it to explain much more than that. Deb explains that Celia has "chemo brain" - that they all have chemo brain and that soon, once I am hooked up, I will have it, too.

Then, your nurse, a lovely woman named Irene, comes in and gets you prepped for your first chemo treatment. Hopefully, this is your last first treatment. You don't want to ever have to have cancer again - you don't want to be like some of the ladies you will meet later today who went into remission and had it come back.

Irene numbs your chest, where the portacath was put in nine days ago, with some cold compressed air. When you're good and numb, she tells you to breathe deep, and blow the air out hard as she pushes a special needle through your skin and into the portacath. The needle is bent at a right angle and sticks out of your chest a half inch. Irene puts masking tape over it so you don't bump it against your clothes.

You are then hooked up to an drip...a bag of steroids (to combat the side effects of the chemo to come) and anti-nausea meds hangs on the pole to the left of your Lazy-Boy. It drips in for 30 minutes, you feel nothing, just a slight sting where the needle is in your skin. You talk with Deb and Celia, they ask you what you're in for and how you found it. They marvel "You haven't lost your hair, yet!" and you explain that this is your first time. Celia says "Oh, you may not lose it" you explain that it's been guaranteed that you will. She nods and then asks for water - the chemo's making her thirsty.

You feel a headache coming on - it's been 24 hours since your last coffee and you are missing your usual caffeine dose. Your doctor, a beautiful, trim woman of presumable Indian decent named Dr. Saeed talks with you and your mom about the anti-nausea meds she prescribed and that you picked up from the pharmacy just a half hour before you arrived to the office for your chemo. She explains the side effects of the meds and how often to take them. She says you should listen to your body and take them if you need to. You ask her about a special diet and she tells you to avoid high doses of antioxidants because they are good for you, and therefor good for the cancer, they can counteract the chemo. Also, no grapefruit because it speeds the metabolism of not only you, but of the cancer. "What about coffee?" you ask. "If you need to have a cup a day, I'm fine with that." Good. You send your mom to get you a coffee so you can make this headache go away.

While your mom's getting coffee, Irene brings over her tray of meds. The chemo is really beginning now. First up is Adriamycin. It's red and it's in a syringe. Irene pokes the syringe's needle into a tube connected to the portacath. She pushes the red liquid in slowly, you watch it go in until it's gone. You just got your first dose of chemo.

Second up is Bleomycin. A clear liquid that is also "pushed" into the portacath. In about a minute's time, you've received your second chemo med. Third is Vincristine, another clear liquid pushed in. You are feeling nothing strange at this point. No warmth, no sting, but there is a slight chemical taste in your mouth. It wasn't there before.

Last, Irene loads a bag on the pole full of Dacarbazine, your fourth and final chemo med. It drips in slowly while you wait for your mom to get back with the coffee.

While your mom's away, another woman comes in and greets Deb and Celia with a smile. "She done gradumacated" Deb says. This woman has been through with chemo for a year. She, like Deb and a number of other women in the room, had breast cancer. She's been in remission for several months and is coming back to say "Hi" and treat her chemo friends with a box of Dunkin Donuts Munchkins; which you can't refuse. Your mom returns with the coffee, you explain what Irene just did with the chemo meds, you eat some donut holes and sip some of the coffee. Your caffeine headache subsides and you start to feel a little buzzed. It's not the sugar from the munchkins, it's definitely chemo brain.

As the Dacarbazine drips in over 30 minutes you learn more about the women sharing the room with you. Since you got here, six women have come and gone from this room. Deb, the boisterous woman who jokes about pole dancing, Celia, the reserved and sarcastic woman from Glasgow, a wirey artist woman who moved to Arizona in 1941 and grew up in a house on Van Buren and 21st Avenue (she does wood block printing and water coloring), Coco who came with her mother-in-law and who has been suffering from recurring cancers for the past few years, an architect in remission (the one who brought the donut holes). A very interesting bunch of ladies. These are people you will see every other Friday. You pray this is a ministry opportunity. To share your hope with them and the reason for your hope, Jesus Christ.

After the Dacarbazine drip is done, you feel buzzed and are mixing up your words. You probably have a goofy grin on your face, too. Another nurse pulls the needle from your portacath and tapes on a bandage. You have now completed round one of chemotherapy.

POST CHEMO WRAP UP
So, for the past couple days I have been taking it easy. Cleaning my house, resting and eating when I can (advice from Coco - "eat when you can...there will be days you can't!"). I got the internet hooked up at home so I will be able to work from home on the days I feel particularly bad. My hot water heater is broken and, well, that's a whole other issue I don't have the energy to expound upon. Just know that I am grateful my mom is nearby and I can use her shower :)

PRAYER PRIORITIES
1) A prayer of thanks to God for keeping me from getting violently ill on the chemo. I can't imagine how much worse this would be if I was throwing up or nauseous or having to run to the bathroom every minute. THANK YOU LORD!!!!!! I know so many of you prayed that I would have minimal side effects, and it worked.
2) Pray that I don't get sick. My immune system is compromised right now which means I could get sick easily. That would not be a good thing
3) Pray that in two weeks when I go back that when they take my blood that my bloodwork looks good. Some of these meds make me produce less blood cells than I normally do. If my counts are too low, I will have to skip a treatment. Don't want to have to do that.
4) Pray that my hot water heater situation gets straightened out. It's not the water heater that's the issue, it's a wiring issue with my house. This could get time consuming and super expensive. Just pray it's a simple fix, please.
5) Lastly, pray for the women, and all the people I meet, that opportunities to share my faith would arise. That they would ask me personal questions and I would always point back to God.

Thanks to all of you for reading, praying and keeping me company :)

LOVE,
T