This is not a cheery post. Chemo is horrible. There is no other way to describe it, and I'm already dreading the next five treatments. Here's how it went and why it took me 4 days to be able to write about it.
I got to my doctor's office, which thankfully has an infusion room and nurses I know and adore. One of the nurses gave me my pick of chairs - recliners of course - and then helped me get set up with my Ipad, water, phone, etc. Then my vitals were taken, and once it was established that I wasn't "sick" with anything contagious, out came the bags.
One was full of cytoxan/cyclophosphemide - the specific type of chemo I'm on - and the other was full of steroids. A LOT of steroids. The IV was inserted, and I was given benadryl and zofran to make sure I didn't puke right away. Then I was hooked up to the bags for about two hours. The infusion itself wasn't horrible. I had some nausea but it was tolerable. When I left, I thought it was going to be fine.
Within an hour, however, I realized how wrong I was. Very quickly I started getting really really queasy, and I started having horrific hot flashes. I was dripping sweat and shaking from it. Then came the full body tremors. And the joint and bone pain. Then the migraine, more nausea, and muscle pain. My whole world became pain. By the time I got home, I could barely move, had an ice pack on my head but covered in a blanket, and I literally just writhed in pain. Percocet didn't help, nothing helped except the zofran. I haven't thrown up, and it's thanks to that magical little pill. I couldn't eat, yet I was starving.
I'm pretty sure I didn't sleep that night, but I can't really remember. I literally couldn't wrap my mind around anything other than the excruciating pain I was in.
Wednesday I woke up, and I was exhausted. The majority of the pain had dulled down, and all I could focus on was the fact that I was still nauseous, still having hot flashes, felt achey all over, and I was TIRED. Not the workout til you puke kind of tired, not the all nighter kind of tired. Unless you experience autoimmune fatigue, I don't think I can describe it. I slept pretty much all day and all night. A day completely lost.
Thursday I had to see my cardiologist, but I wasn't well enough to drive. So a wonderful friend who happened to have an appointment a block away an hour after mine picked me up and drove me home. The cardiology appt didn't go as expected, as I'm in for some invasive testing after chemo is over. I won't bore you with the details, but it won't be fun. When I got home, a mere 4 hours later, I was pretty dead to the world. I was able to eat, which made me happy and watch a couple of movies before passing out completely. While my body was still in pain and I had crazy fatigue, it felt more normal than I had been in days. Getting out in the sun for a bit, seeing a friend, getting some gossip in, and just feeling not like a patient did wonders for my emotional state.
Today, Friday, I am seeing my endocrinologist. He will not be happy with me, as I haven't been good about monitoring my blood sugar. I figured that I am going to be put on insulin at this appointment anyway, because of all the steroids that I am currently taking and will be getting over the last few months. I have prednisone-induced diabeetus so even with meds, it's out of control. It's one of the really horrific side effects of the steroids.
So I got a ride to my doctor, but needed to be dropped off two hours early because my husband had to get to work. I'm hanging out at a Coffee Bean around the corner from my doctor, sitting with my face mask on, and writing away. Today is the best I've felt since pre-chemo. I'm still nauseous, I still ache, but it is more like a regular lupus flare. I think I can officially say that my pain threshold has increased dramatically, because this is beyond tolerable.
I know that the side effects and actual process of chemo is cumulative, so the next several treatments will likely be worse. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried, but at least I have a sense of what to expect, and that makes me feel more in control. It will help me prepare mentally, figure out how to work around the few chores I can do, and any type of social activity like church.
I want to say that I am devastated about it all, but I'm not. If this is the price I have to pay to have a normal lifespan and a non-threatening colon, I'll gladly pay the price. I just wish I didn't have to both suffer through this and see my husband suffering watching me suffer.
We'll get through this, because that's what we do.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I felt the pain while reading this. Just hang in there my blogger friend. You will get through this. By just sharing this to the public, I can already tell you're strong and brave. Be safe.
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