Chemo # 3

Those good old days
I was happy to have enjoyed a string of 'good' days since July 13th.  I was able to: attend an outdoor concert (4EverFab); head to a few beaches and lakes; enjoy some cook-outs; and even try a few of my favorite restaurants.

Last evening I trekked down to Quincy (nearly 3 hours due to it being during rush hour) and met former RMV/MassDOT colleagues/friends to celebrate the recent retirement of three women I have known and worked with for 25 years.   It was a great time.  The weather was perfect, the location was gorgeous, the food was fabulous and the company - like coming home to family. It was so good to reconnect and provided a fitting closure to the end of my 'good' days - for awhile, anyway.

Needing to get up earlier than I had been, I set the alarm and made sure I got to bed early.  Of course, I didn't sleep well.  I woke up an hour before the alarm and decided to start my day.  I was dreading this round of chemo.  Since round two was worse than round one, why would round three break the pattern.  All one can do is expect the best and prepare for the worst.

Getting the approval to proceed
I arrived early for my appointment, however, I was taken right away for my vitals check.  My weight was the same, but my pressure was a little high.  [I attribute this to my being anxious and not having a good night's sleep.  But I'm no doctor, I just play one on TV.] I was asked to return to waiting room until the doctor arrived.  I had brought the morning paper and upon finishing it my name was called.  I was led to that 'all too familiar' examination room.

Dr. Mehta arrived shortly thereafter and got right to work. He said that my tests results were normal.  He also mentioned that my liver was doing fine. [I don't recall any conversations about my liver, but I suppose the 'poison' would affect all organs.  I'm glad that he is doing his due diligence in checking my vital organs for their tolerance.]

Going through his list, Dr. Mehta asked for a status update on expected side effects and those that have been self reported.  I had mentioned that I did experience 'tingling' in the balls of both feet after mowing the lawn, yesterday.  He asked if it was intermittent and I said yes.  He asked how the numbness to my forefinger and thumb was doing.  I said, "It's still there, but has lessened a bit.  However, I recall that at the end of the last chemo that had also happened, but worsened as the chemo was being 'processed' by my body." He typed in some notes to the file.

Dr. Mehta then examined my breathing, heart beat and felt my neck glands.  He then said, "You continue to amaze me.  You are cleared for the next chemo."  With mixed emotions I replied, "Yay".

He scheduled a follow-up and also a tentative date for chemo # 4 - August 13th. [Where did the summer go?] He shook my hand and said, "Good luck."

Prick a vein -  any vein (or two, or three)
Entering the Chemo Unit, I had hoped to find my lucky station 7 available.  But as fate would have it, station 8 was the only vacancy.  It's located in the corner away from the windows and (to me) seemed to be darker and more conducive to napping while being injected. [Sounds like an arrestable offense - NWI.] I made myself comfortable and waited for the nurse.  I was hoping for Liz, but didn't see her on the floor.  Not too long after, Roberta looking at both patient number 7 and me said, "Which of you were here first?"  Being truthful, I said, "She was here first." [I did have ulterior motives.  Roberta was the nurse I had last time that said she "has bifocals and always looks over them".  I still had the bruise from her 'oopsie' and really didn't want her using me as a pin cushion again.] Well as the luck of # 8 had it, she was 'ready for me'.  OK, maybe she was having a bad day last time.  Maybe she has new glasses.  Maybe she'll look through them.

After Roberta tied off my arm and circulation she was feeling for veins to use.  My vein from chemo #1 was still tender.  I suggested using the vein we ended up with last time.  She said, "Well I was looking at this vein, but  maybe your suggestion would be better."  She tapped and rubbed and swabbed then got ready to prick.  I don't like watching that part so I looked away.  It was uncomfortable and I told her so.  She said, "Why is it so dark over here?".  We looked up in unison and saw that a light bulb needed to be replaced.  [Hindsight is 20/20 - I should have been more insistent in moving to a better lit station or waited until the bulb was replaced.] She poked more and finally 'got in'.  But it still didn't feel right to me.  Not that there's any thing right about pointy steel jabbed in your arm. [I suppose unless you are a junkie - which my arm could pass for.] I was taped (more than sufficiently) and hooked up to the first of four bags of liquids.

A few hours into this, it was now time for the real poison (Adriamycin).  This is so toxic that it has to be administered manually so it can be stopped if something goes wrong.  Ollie was doing the honors, and it wasn't too long before I reported that something just didn't seem right.  The area was beginning to turn red and there was some discomfort (more than I had been having).  She immediately stopped the chemo and began flushing with a saline solution, hoping that the redness would dissipate.   Roberta stopped by and said, "We'll have to try another vein." [For joy!]

The bags of poison were quickly removed from the table and new jabbing tools were brought out.  Once again my arm was tied off and the rubbing, tapping and pressing began.  With a new needle she said, "Let's try this one."  No luck there. "Now, let's try this."  She began looking up my arm and said she could use the vein they've been tapping for my blood tests.  I got my phone out and ran my flashlight app.  "Oh that is helpful", she said.  [Why did I not think of this earlier?] She was in and it 'felt' right. [Why does that sound odd?]

We were cooking with gas.  If my vein were a gold mine, this vein is the mother-load.  [Sorry to mix metaphors - but I have chemo brain.] The blood flow was excellent.  The poison was 'finished' and the last two bags of fluids were set on auto pilot. We finished up at around 1 PM. 

Home now and just waiting for the progression.  Head is cloudy and am feeling kind of blah.

More to come.