My other chemotherapy treatments where scheduled for early mornings. But because I needed authorization from someone other than my oncologist, I did receive the authorization from Sandra Creamer yesterday. So, the appointment for my last round of chemo was scheduled for the afternoon.
When I arrived in the chemo unit, the morning crowd was clearing out. I jumped into station 1. Lucky seven was occupied. I did see a full compliment of nurses: Liz, Ollie, Linda and of course Magoo...err, Roberta. I waited until the first one was free. Ollie came over and arranged all the implements of pain on the table then left. Linda came over and took over. I haven't had her before, but she was great. First time and minimal pain. Ollie returned and hooked me up to the first of my IV bags. The saline solution finished then the anti nausea IV was attached for an hour of dripping. All these fluids quickly passed through my system and were eager to enter the porcelain bowl. As I've learned from my other visits, the drip machine runs on battery back-up so I unplugged it and wheeled it into the restroom. While there I noticed that blood was being back-flushed into the IV. I also noticed that the unit was quiet. Upon returning to my station, I got Ollie's attention and she said, "Oh, this is the unit that needs the battery replaced. No worries, I'll call it in and reset the timer once it's plugged in." Phew, that wasn't as bad as I anticipated. It was now time for the Adriamycin (that beautiful red poison). Just the look of the two huge tubes and now that color (one of my favorites) evoked feelings of anxiety and queasiness. Bring it on and let's get this thing done.
Linda approached and set up shop to administer these tubes manually (like each other time). In chatting with Linda learned that she was originally from Maine, outside of Farmington and she reminisced about how many moose were there in the wild coexisting with the human neighbors. She had moved closer to work, but wishes to move back to 'the country'. Chatting about this and that makes the time fly and certainly took my mind off that poison. Before I new it both tubes were done. I told her before we do the next IV, I needed to make some red water. [Adriamycin makes urine a red-blush color and it's good to get it out of the bladder as soon as possible because of the toxicity.] Linda unplugged the IV machine and let me do my thing. Upon my return, I replaced the AC cord and waited for the next treatment.
Ollie stopped by and with the Cyclophosphamide, the last poison, and connected me and turned on the machine. "This will take about an hour", she said. I settled in and took my cap and covered my eyes. I was almost dozing when I heard a voice behind my chair. Apparently a Dana Farber employee was on a headset providing the serial number to the IV unit needing a battery. She apologized for disturbing me and slipped away. About 40 minutes into this IV, I once again needed to visit the porcelain throne. I disconnected the power and announced my intentions before leaving the unit. Upon my return there seemed to me no one around. I reconnected the power and resumed my position. By this time, Ollie walked by and she said, "Oh ya, you need to be reset." Beep beep beep, I was back on track.
The timer beeped and Ollie said, "You are all done. I just want to flush you with a little more saline for about 5 minutes." Not a problem, I said.
Liz stopped by and said that I was a real trooper and gave be a nice parting gift bag containing, water, hand sanitizer, chap stick, moisturizer, note pad with pen and hard candies. The bag was water-proof and she said was the perfect size for a vanity kleenex box. There was also a hand written note saying, "Hope you feel better". I thanked her and the team. By this point I was all done. I bid adieu and thanked everyone again (even Roberta). Knowing that this stuff was in me only the first part was done. I now have 7-10 days ahead of me.
Arriving home, as expected, I was fuzzy brained, had a headache, really no appetite and little energy. I got my water and sat in my chair and surfed the TV. Not too much gained my interest. I fell asleep and woke up just as the sun was setting. I had my legs crossed so one leg was asleep. I don't know how I managed it but one arm was also asleep. Panic set in and I was having thoughts of stroke, neuropathy, and whatever. However, the limbs began to wake up, but slower than normal. I selected to stay put versus standing up and risking a blacking out. Eventually I mustered enough courage and energy to get more water - not before returning some used water to the facilities.
I went to bed at midnight and like last time, I woke up every two hours. However, I was able to go back to sleep, but as 6 AM came, I was up for the day. Still groggy, head-achy, and generally not feeling great. I managed to have some coffee and a muffin. One side effect this time is spells of hiccuping. Out of the blue for no apparent reason and defying all known remedies to make it stop. Very strange indeed.
I'm not expecting tomorrow to be any better, but I'm resigned to the fact that things will get worse before they are better. So I'm ready.
More to come.
Friday, August 14, 2015
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
All systems are go for Chem # 4
The rains of the last few days have passed, along with the muggy weather. Today was bright, clear with relatively low humidity. Dana Farber, Methuen was fairly light with patient activity. I checked in and was soon called for labs, vital checks and was directed into a different examination room. Dr. Mehta is on vacation, so Sandra Creamer, NP fulfilled his duties.
Sandra arrived quickly with some paperwork. She asked a few questions on the status of previously reported side effects and stated that I was doing great in my tolerating the chemo. She checked some vitals (breathing, heart, oral and nasal cavities and my eyes). She was pleased. While looking at my blood test results she said, "Your blood work looks great. Perfect in fact. You would never guess that you were having chemo therapy." [I guess I continue to amaze.] After chatting about the last treatment and 'what's next', she gave me the green like to proceed to Chemo # 4.
I have mixed emotions. I'm really happy that I'm tolerating this, but truly not looking forward to being sick again for 7-10 days. Of course there's the unknown with cumulative effects of chemo and how those may manifest during this round. There's also that underlying fear of future side effects, but I'll have to suppress those fears and relegate them to the risk/concern category - for now.
So tomorrow begins the last round. More to come.
Sandra arrived quickly with some paperwork. She asked a few questions on the status of previously reported side effects and stated that I was doing great in my tolerating the chemo. She checked some vitals (breathing, heart, oral and nasal cavities and my eyes). She was pleased. While looking at my blood test results she said, "Your blood work looks great. Perfect in fact. You would never guess that you were having chemo therapy." [I guess I continue to amaze.] After chatting about the last treatment and 'what's next', she gave me the green like to proceed to Chemo # 4.
I have mixed emotions. I'm really happy that I'm tolerating this, but truly not looking forward to being sick again for 7-10 days. Of course there's the unknown with cumulative effects of chemo and how those may manifest during this round. There's also that underlying fear of future side effects, but I'll have to suppress those fears and relegate them to the risk/concern category - for now.
So tomorrow begins the last round. More to come.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
End of round three and round four is just days away
I've been enjoying my 'good days' (some better than others, but compared to the 'bad days', no complaints).
I had my follow-up visit with my primary care provider last Friday. I thought I was having a blood test and according to instructions, I had fasted for 14 hours. [Why is it when you have to fast, you get hankerings for snacks in those wee hours of the morning? I resisted the temptation and soldiered on.]
The morning of my appointment I had to skip my morning coffee. Coffee drinkers can empathize and know how 'out of it' a lack of caffeine can cause. Dr. Rees was happy with my vitals and overall progress in my treatments. I had asked where his lab was? They used to be adjacent to his reception desk. He said they are on the first floor now. I added, that I had been fasting and was ready for my blood test. Quizzically, he looked through my electronic folder and said, "You don't need a blood test until February." Looking at my print-out, I could see that I wrote 'fast for 14 hours', but then noticed it was next to the February appointment. [Chemo brain?] Dr. Rees said he'll see me then and wished me continued luck on my treatments and upcoming surgeries (and whatever the Triple A results require). I went to Starbucks and got a venti (large) dark roast - black. Within minutes, the fog began to lift.
The weather continued to cooperate and I decided to undertake little projects here and there. I was even drawn to playing music (guitar) again and hoped that playing would bring better sensation to my thumb and forefinger. Unfortunately, I had not played for a month and my stamina was not up to speed, not to mention my chops. Determined to 'get the rust out' I worked on some intricate fingering and picking exercises which seemed to help a lot. However, after today's session I stopped and noticed that I had developed a blood blister on my ring finger. Not good. Torn calluses are to be expected but a blister is bad news. There's nothing I can do but wait until it heals. This means that it will most likely be another month before I'm wanting to play again. It is what it is. I'll just switch to playing my keyboard.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with Sandra Creamer, Nurse Practitioner. Dr. Mehta is on vacation so Sandra will make the call on my continuing to chemo # 4. Barring abnormal blood test results, I don't anticipate any delay and am planning on (and mentally preparing for) my last round of poisons.
Thanks to ALL for your continued support and encouragement!
More to come.
I had my follow-up visit with my primary care provider last Friday. I thought I was having a blood test and according to instructions, I had fasted for 14 hours. [Why is it when you have to fast, you get hankerings for snacks in those wee hours of the morning? I resisted the temptation and soldiered on.]
The morning of my appointment I had to skip my morning coffee. Coffee drinkers can empathize and know how 'out of it' a lack of caffeine can cause. Dr. Rees was happy with my vitals and overall progress in my treatments. I had asked where his lab was? They used to be adjacent to his reception desk. He said they are on the first floor now. I added, that I had been fasting and was ready for my blood test. Quizzically, he looked through my electronic folder and said, "You don't need a blood test until February." Looking at my print-out, I could see that I wrote 'fast for 14 hours', but then noticed it was next to the February appointment. [Chemo brain?] Dr. Rees said he'll see me then and wished me continued luck on my treatments and upcoming surgeries (and whatever the Triple A results require). I went to Starbucks and got a venti (large) dark roast - black. Within minutes, the fog began to lift.
The weather continued to cooperate and I decided to undertake little projects here and there. I was even drawn to playing music (guitar) again and hoped that playing would bring better sensation to my thumb and forefinger. Unfortunately, I had not played for a month and my stamina was not up to speed, not to mention my chops. Determined to 'get the rust out' I worked on some intricate fingering and picking exercises which seemed to help a lot. However, after today's session I stopped and noticed that I had developed a blood blister on my ring finger. Not good. Torn calluses are to be expected but a blister is bad news. There's nothing I can do but wait until it heals. This means that it will most likely be another month before I'm wanting to play again. It is what it is. I'll just switch to playing my keyboard.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with Sandra Creamer, Nurse Practitioner. Dr. Mehta is on vacation so Sandra will make the call on my continuing to chemo # 4. Barring abnormal blood test results, I don't anticipate any delay and am planning on (and mentally preparing for) my last round of poisons.
Thanks to ALL for your continued support and encouragement!
More to come.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Winding down the last week of Chemo # 3
Life is a tough teacher. It tests first then teaches.
We've all heard the axioms: When you have your health you have everything; You don't know what you got till it's gone; and other apropos phrases and lyrics. One of the many things I've learned through this particular journey is - I find these (sayings, axioms, lyrics) to be so true.
Like round two, chemo # 3 started out as expected - horrible. From the initial feelings of 'here it comes again', and for a good week and a half, I felt miserable. Absolutely no energy or desire to do anything but 'veg-out' in front of the TV. I had some in-house networking tasks to start (the setup of a NAS unit I purchased in June) which under normal situations would make me eager to complete, but I had very little interest in anything but being left alone. With very little appetite, it was the sporadic cravings that gave me sustenance. Even sleeping was a battle initially. However, after some days I was grateful to sleep for periods of up to 12 hours. Not that I wanted to sleep away the short summer, but sleep is what I needed and was the easiest route for me to take.
Also like round two, at mid point I developed a low grade fever. It didn't reach the 'you better call the doctor' level, but after an aspirin or two the following day I began to feel better. So much so, that I began to 'do things' again. I went on an island cruise to the Islands of Shoals out of Rye Harbor, NH.; went to the premier of Rogue Nation (Mission Impossible 5); ate at a few of my favorite restaurants and took some short rides while the nice weather persisted.
Last Thursday, Microsoft release Windows 10. For an early adopter like myself, I was anxiously waiting to get my notification that I could begin the upgrade. Like most Microsoft upgrades, there is a considerable amount of angst expected. There has never been any IT project big or small that hasn't hit some kind of 'snag'. I received a frantic call on Friday that a friend [who isn't that very computer literate] had installed Windows 10 and his 'f*cking computer isn't working right.'
More than a decade ago, I started a side business of fixing PCs and setting up networks, etc. If you recall the Sasser Worm was the 'big thing' that affected most users at the time. I got lots of business as a result of that malicious program. As time went on, I've always been the 'go to guy' for all things computer. Could Windows 10 be the next 'big thing/drama' - maybe.
Timing is everything. Not only was I feeling better and up for the challenge that I dub - PC Wars, I had the time. I spent many hours restoring his PC and reinstalling all his third party app/drivers, but not in time for Monday where he had planned to work remotely. By Monday morning I had things running at 100%. Of course this left him with a bad taste for Windows 10 to which he said, "I'll never upgrade. 8.1 works fine." I'm sure he'll get on the band-wagon eventually.
Feeling invigorated (from an IT knowledge and skills perspective), I ventured into setting up My Cloud (NAS). That took about a day, but I got it up and running. Just in time too. I got my notification that my Windows 10 was ready to be installed. I had three machines that will require this, but I always start with my 'science project'. If things go south, it's not critical that I have that machine up and running. As expected, the actual install was pretty rote, but running it and tweaking the settings took some effort. Beware those that decide to venture forth: make sure you have your third party logins, software keys, etc., handy. Microrsoft doesn't care about those third party apps - you are on your own, as I learned. I'm sure those third party vendors found this out too since the wait for phone support was more than an hour and chat help was closed due to high volume. After a day, I was able to get the machine running - OK. It is a new system and there are so many things to learn and try. I do like these projects and as I said, timing is everything. And while I'm feeling good and have the time I'm happy and appreciative of having good health. I haven't watched TV for a few days! Radical.
I'm basking in my 'good days' and am very thankful for them. Next chemo is scheduled for next Thursday. In the meantime I'll be seeing my primary care for a 'maintenance' visit on Friday. I hope he doesn't find anything to burst my feel-good bubble.
Enjoying life!
We've all heard the axioms: When you have your health you have everything; You don't know what you got till it's gone; and other apropos phrases and lyrics. One of the many things I've learned through this particular journey is - I find these (sayings, axioms, lyrics) to be so true.
Like round two, chemo # 3 started out as expected - horrible. From the initial feelings of 'here it comes again', and for a good week and a half, I felt miserable. Absolutely no energy or desire to do anything but 'veg-out' in front of the TV. I had some in-house networking tasks to start (the setup of a NAS unit I purchased in June) which under normal situations would make me eager to complete, but I had very little interest in anything but being left alone. With very little appetite, it was the sporadic cravings that gave me sustenance. Even sleeping was a battle initially. However, after some days I was grateful to sleep for periods of up to 12 hours. Not that I wanted to sleep away the short summer, but sleep is what I needed and was the easiest route for me to take.
Also like round two, at mid point I developed a low grade fever. It didn't reach the 'you better call the doctor' level, but after an aspirin or two the following day I began to feel better. So much so, that I began to 'do things' again. I went on an island cruise to the Islands of Shoals out of Rye Harbor, NH.; went to the premier of Rogue Nation (Mission Impossible 5); ate at a few of my favorite restaurants and took some short rides while the nice weather persisted.
Last Thursday, Microsoft release Windows 10. For an early adopter like myself, I was anxiously waiting to get my notification that I could begin the upgrade. Like most Microsoft upgrades, there is a considerable amount of angst expected. There has never been any IT project big or small that hasn't hit some kind of 'snag'. I received a frantic call on Friday that a friend [who isn't that very computer literate] had installed Windows 10 and his 'f*cking computer isn't working right.'
More than a decade ago, I started a side business of fixing PCs and setting up networks, etc. If you recall the Sasser Worm was the 'big thing' that affected most users at the time. I got lots of business as a result of that malicious program. As time went on, I've always been the 'go to guy' for all things computer. Could Windows 10 be the next 'big thing/drama' - maybe.
Timing is everything. Not only was I feeling better and up for the challenge that I dub - PC Wars, I had the time. I spent many hours restoring his PC and reinstalling all his third party app/drivers, but not in time for Monday where he had planned to work remotely. By Monday morning I had things running at 100%. Of course this left him with a bad taste for Windows 10 to which he said, "I'll never upgrade. 8.1 works fine." I'm sure he'll get on the band-wagon eventually.
Feeling invigorated (from an IT knowledge and skills perspective), I ventured into setting up My Cloud (NAS). That took about a day, but I got it up and running. Just in time too. I got my notification that my Windows 10 was ready to be installed. I had three machines that will require this, but I always start with my 'science project'. If things go south, it's not critical that I have that machine up and running. As expected, the actual install was pretty rote, but running it and tweaking the settings took some effort. Beware those that decide to venture forth: make sure you have your third party logins, software keys, etc., handy. Microrsoft doesn't care about those third party apps - you are on your own, as I learned. I'm sure those third party vendors found this out too since the wait for phone support was more than an hour and chat help was closed due to high volume. After a day, I was able to get the machine running - OK. It is a new system and there are so many things to learn and try. I do like these projects and as I said, timing is everything. And while I'm feeling good and have the time I'm happy and appreciative of having good health. I haven't watched TV for a few days! Radical.
I'm basking in my 'good days' and am very thankful for them. Next chemo is scheduled for next Thursday. In the meantime I'll be seeing my primary care for a 'maintenance' visit on Friday. I hope he doesn't find anything to burst my feel-good bubble.
Enjoying life!
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Five days into Chemo # 3
Everyone has been great with the support and understanding I need to get through this. Thank you.
This round of chemo has been the same in some aspects and different in others. Like other treatments, I've been lucky to avoid the nausea and the need to take prescriptions to combat - if and when it rears its ugly head. Last time I didn't have the lingering headache immediately following chemo, but this time I did. Not debilitating, but nagging. Enough so that I really haven't been hungry. I have had cravings, but the 'normal things' like a salad, I've been steering clear of. I'm so glad that tomatoes freeze well (for later cooking). However, Romaine needs to be chucked. I'm glad there wasn't that much that needed to be thrown out. I'm now on a cooked vegetable kick, so those frozen tomatoes will make an appearance I'm certain.
I'm so sick of flavored water. I have at least a dozen cherry and limeade whose red color looks so much like the Adriamycin, that I'm tempted to chuck those so I won't be reminded of this terrible poison. I've been able to 'stomach' Fruit2O, but I'm down to just the lemon flavor only. I drank one the other day and it felt like I had hair in my mouth. [Gross alert] I soon found out that my mouth lining was sloughing as a result of the acid in the lemon drink. I did pick up some ginger ale today as well as Newman's pink lemonade.
As to be expected, I'm exhausted. I was disheartened this time because my sleep patterns were disrupted for a few days. I'd go to bed at 11 PM and then be wide awake at 2 AM for a number of days in succession. Not having lots of energy, I assumed the couch potato position and partook in an endless diet of Law and Order. Not a bad show, but the commercials - especially in those off hours, are really too much. Sue me, sue you, sue the hospital, sue the drug companies, sue Sue. Enough. It's no wonder there's a spike in post traumatic stress. Maddening. At least I can pause live TV and accumulate enough of a buffer to zip through the commercials until I space it and change the channel - effectively loosing my buffer and half the unwatched show. [Insert expletive here.] Around Sunday, I broke the sleepless pattern and started a new regimen of sleeping for almost 12 hours straight. At least the day goes by faster and quicker to my 'good days'.
The body is trying like hell to repair itself. There are some casualties. My poor right arm is bruised and painful in places as a result of the chemo being pushed through my veins. My 'oopsies' are quite visible [Thanks Roberta - hope you got your prescription updated.] My two finger neuropathy continues. The tingling in the feet also continues, but intermittent. My hair appears to be trying to grow back, albeit slowly. I haven't seen any different colors and my beard is still quite light - requiring a shave only once or twice a week. I'm maintaining my weight. I gain a pound - then lose a pound, but have maintained a fairly steady weight. I'm religious about taking my temperature and that seems to be fairly consistent too. I'm still regular (no doubt as a result of my cooked vegetables kick).
I'm hopeful that each day will be better going forward. Thursday marks one week. If this is like last time, I should be seeing noticeable changes by the weekend. We are scheduled for our first heat wave in two years and it's supposed to be extended. It would be nice to be able to take advantage of the weather to enjoy some time by the shore (lake, ocean or pools side).
Keep cool. More to come.
This round of chemo has been the same in some aspects and different in others. Like other treatments, I've been lucky to avoid the nausea and the need to take prescriptions to combat - if and when it rears its ugly head. Last time I didn't have the lingering headache immediately following chemo, but this time I did. Not debilitating, but nagging. Enough so that I really haven't been hungry. I have had cravings, but the 'normal things' like a salad, I've been steering clear of. I'm so glad that tomatoes freeze well (for later cooking). However, Romaine needs to be chucked. I'm glad there wasn't that much that needed to be thrown out. I'm now on a cooked vegetable kick, so those frozen tomatoes will make an appearance I'm certain.
I'm so sick of flavored water. I have at least a dozen cherry and limeade whose red color looks so much like the Adriamycin, that I'm tempted to chuck those so I won't be reminded of this terrible poison. I've been able to 'stomach' Fruit2O, but I'm down to just the lemon flavor only. I drank one the other day and it felt like I had hair in my mouth. [Gross alert] I soon found out that my mouth lining was sloughing as a result of the acid in the lemon drink. I did pick up some ginger ale today as well as Newman's pink lemonade.
As to be expected, I'm exhausted. I was disheartened this time because my sleep patterns were disrupted for a few days. I'd go to bed at 11 PM and then be wide awake at 2 AM for a number of days in succession. Not having lots of energy, I assumed the couch potato position and partook in an endless diet of Law and Order. Not a bad show, but the commercials - especially in those off hours, are really too much. Sue me, sue you, sue the hospital, sue the drug companies, sue Sue. Enough. It's no wonder there's a spike in post traumatic stress. Maddening. At least I can pause live TV and accumulate enough of a buffer to zip through the commercials until I space it and change the channel - effectively loosing my buffer and half the unwatched show. [Insert expletive here.] Around Sunday, I broke the sleepless pattern and started a new regimen of sleeping for almost 12 hours straight. At least the day goes by faster and quicker to my 'good days'.
The body is trying like hell to repair itself. There are some casualties. My poor right arm is bruised and painful in places as a result of the chemo being pushed through my veins. My 'oopsies' are quite visible [Thanks Roberta - hope you got your prescription updated.] My two finger neuropathy continues. The tingling in the feet also continues, but intermittent. My hair appears to be trying to grow back, albeit slowly. I haven't seen any different colors and my beard is still quite light - requiring a shave only once or twice a week. I'm maintaining my weight. I gain a pound - then lose a pound, but have maintained a fairly steady weight. I'm religious about taking my temperature and that seems to be fairly consistent too. I'm still regular (no doubt as a result of my cooked vegetables kick).
I'm hopeful that each day will be better going forward. Thursday marks one week. If this is like last time, I should be seeing noticeable changes by the weekend. We are scheduled for our first heat wave in two years and it's supposed to be extended. It would be nice to be able to take advantage of the weather to enjoy some time by the shore (lake, ocean or pools side).
Keep cool. More to come.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Chemo # 2 check-in with Dr Mehta
Days leading up to the appointment
I must admit that my battle with fatigue has been the centerpiece of chemo #2. I was warned by Dr Mehta that the cumulative effect of the chemo will amplify those I'm most affected by. Boy he wasn't kidding. However, this time that period seemed to start on July 4th and gained strength before tapering off Sunday, July 12th. The worst was between Monday and Saturday. It's possible that may have been shortened if I had not ventured to mow the lawn on the Thursday, the 9th.
During chemo # 1, I had visited Dr Mehta a week from the treatment. That day seemed to be the first good day, so I thought that the 'week-i-versay' was safe. The things we learn by trying.
Last Thursday was cooler and dryer. The grass really needed mowing and I was feeling OK. Energy levels generally are good in the morning so - to me - why not try? Honestly, while mowing, I still felt OK. It wasn't until I was done and put the mower away that it hit me. I was dizzy and almost to the point of passing out. My peripheral vision was hazy and I had just enough energy to 'collapse' my upper body onto my shed. I never lost consciousness but really wanted to get inside to sit. I managed to stagger onto my three seasons porch and sit.
[This short jaunt was very reminiscent of my being quite intoxicated [during college of course] where I felt like I was a third party in my body and I was just hoping that I'd make my destination.]
It took me a good half hour before I was able to get into the house and rehydrate. [Yes, yes to all those that had offered to help and I had said no. I should have taken you up on it.] That stunt really wiped me out and I paid for it the rest of the day and into Friday.
Yesterday (Monday, July 13th), was a great day. I had energy, felt wonderful and was so pleased to have broken the fatigue. I was able to catch up on some household chores and still have energy to do some cerebral tasks. Very uplifting and encouraging.
Today I don't feel quite as 'good' as yesterday, but I do know that I'll be on a pattern of good and bad days for a while. Prior to my check-in today, I made a grocery run. I finally got my shrimp ;-)
[I asked for a pound and a half when clearly a pound was plenty. So I'll be having shrimp for a few days.]
Appointment Day
When I arrived for my appointment at Dana Farber - Methuen, it was threatening to rain. At the entrance I was greeted with a waft of second hand smoke from a patient smoking next to a "This is a non-smoking campus" sign. Although I wanted to, I said nothing.
At check-in I got my wrist band, quickly had my blood drawn and was soon called back for my vitals. I had lost 5 pounds of that water weight and my pressure was 130/80 - not bad at all. I was asked to wait to be called when the examination room opened up. It wasn't long before I heard my name before being led to a familiar room.
Dr. Mehta arrived after a brief period and began asking about my side effects. I had said that fatigue was the biggest. He asked about stomach pains, nausea, spasms, constipation, numbness and fever.
I said, "I'm still regular and luckily nausea-free. Other than the fatigue, the most notable side effects were: stomach cramps; lack of appetite; lingering numbness in the forefinger and thumb; and intermittent numbness in my toes/feet."
I told him the cramps appeared to be related to gas that I had experienced this time. He asked if I had experienced any mucositis or sores. I had mentioned that I experienced a sloughing of skin in my mouth. He interjected with, "Any sores?" I said, no.
Dr Mehta asked about the intermittent numbness in my feet to which I added, "I noticed that when I'm standing stationary for a period of time, I get the sensation that my feet are falling or have fallen asleep and I get that 'pins and needles' feeling. When I move, it seems to go way." He had no explanation but recorded this in the notes.
He said, "You continue to amaze me." Quizzically, I asked, "How so?" He said while turning the laptop toward me, "You are on your second round of chemo and your white and red blood cell counts are near normal." He showed me a table of data that shows a fairly consistent range. He said, "This is good. You don't need a booster." [I'll take all the praise I can garner at this point.]
He asked about the dermatitis (which has since completely cleared) and if I had had a sore throat. "Knock on wood, no sore throat." He asked - charlie horse? I mentioned that I had one episode but it was because I had not eaten a banana. He entered more notes.
He checked my glands, lungs/breathing and heart. He smiled before saying, "You're good for the next round of chemo, next Thursday." Shaking his hand I said, "I'll be more than half done at that time."
I'm hopin that my good days coincide with the good weather predicted for this weekend and hope to take part in some summer recreation before it slips away.
Thanks to all my family, friends, former co-workers and blog readers for your support, concerns, offers of help and prayers.
I must admit that my battle with fatigue has been the centerpiece of chemo #2. I was warned by Dr Mehta that the cumulative effect of the chemo will amplify those I'm most affected by. Boy he wasn't kidding. However, this time that period seemed to start on July 4th and gained strength before tapering off Sunday, July 12th. The worst was between Monday and Saturday. It's possible that may have been shortened if I had not ventured to mow the lawn on the Thursday, the 9th.
During chemo # 1, I had visited Dr Mehta a week from the treatment. That day seemed to be the first good day, so I thought that the 'week-i-versay' was safe. The things we learn by trying.
Last Thursday was cooler and dryer. The grass really needed mowing and I was feeling OK. Energy levels generally are good in the morning so - to me - why not try? Honestly, while mowing, I still felt OK. It wasn't until I was done and put the mower away that it hit me. I was dizzy and almost to the point of passing out. My peripheral vision was hazy and I had just enough energy to 'collapse' my upper body onto my shed. I never lost consciousness but really wanted to get inside to sit. I managed to stagger onto my three seasons porch and sit.
[This short jaunt was very reminiscent of my being quite intoxicated [during college of course] where I felt like I was a third party in my body and I was just hoping that I'd make my destination.]
It took me a good half hour before I was able to get into the house and rehydrate. [Yes, yes to all those that had offered to help and I had said no. I should have taken you up on it.] That stunt really wiped me out and I paid for it the rest of the day and into Friday.
Yesterday (Monday, July 13th), was a great day. I had energy, felt wonderful and was so pleased to have broken the fatigue. I was able to catch up on some household chores and still have energy to do some cerebral tasks. Very uplifting and encouraging.
Today I don't feel quite as 'good' as yesterday, but I do know that I'll be on a pattern of good and bad days for a while. Prior to my check-in today, I made a grocery run. I finally got my shrimp ;-)
[I asked for a pound and a half when clearly a pound was plenty. So I'll be having shrimp for a few days.]
Appointment Day
When I arrived for my appointment at Dana Farber - Methuen, it was threatening to rain. At the entrance I was greeted with a waft of second hand smoke from a patient smoking next to a "This is a non-smoking campus" sign. Although I wanted to, I said nothing.
At check-in I got my wrist band, quickly had my blood drawn and was soon called back for my vitals. I had lost 5 pounds of that water weight and my pressure was 130/80 - not bad at all. I was asked to wait to be called when the examination room opened up. It wasn't long before I heard my name before being led to a familiar room.
Dr. Mehta arrived after a brief period and began asking about my side effects. I had said that fatigue was the biggest. He asked about stomach pains, nausea, spasms, constipation, numbness and fever.
I said, "I'm still regular and luckily nausea-free. Other than the fatigue, the most notable side effects were: stomach cramps; lack of appetite; lingering numbness in the forefinger and thumb; and intermittent numbness in my toes/feet."
I told him the cramps appeared to be related to gas that I had experienced this time. He asked if I had experienced any mucositis or sores. I had mentioned that I experienced a sloughing of skin in my mouth. He interjected with, "Any sores?" I said, no.
Dr Mehta asked about the intermittent numbness in my feet to which I added, "I noticed that when I'm standing stationary for a period of time, I get the sensation that my feet are falling or have fallen asleep and I get that 'pins and needles' feeling. When I move, it seems to go way." He had no explanation but recorded this in the notes.
He said, "You continue to amaze me." Quizzically, I asked, "How so?" He said while turning the laptop toward me, "You are on your second round of chemo and your white and red blood cell counts are near normal." He showed me a table of data that shows a fairly consistent range. He said, "This is good. You don't need a booster." [I'll take all the praise I can garner at this point.]
He asked about the dermatitis (which has since completely cleared) and if I had had a sore throat. "Knock on wood, no sore throat." He asked - charlie horse? I mentioned that I had one episode but it was because I had not eaten a banana. He entered more notes.
He checked my glands, lungs/breathing and heart. He smiled before saying, "You're good for the next round of chemo, next Thursday." Shaking his hand I said, "I'll be more than half done at that time."
I'm hopin that my good days coincide with the good weather predicted for this weekend and hope to take part in some summer recreation before it slips away.
Thanks to all my family, friends, former co-workers and blog readers for your support, concerns, offers of help and prayers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)