Chemo, week 1
| Hair Situation | Same as it ever was |
| Weight | Down 3 from normal |
| Symptoms | Itchiness mostly gone. Random digestive symptoms, and my teeth feel like I just got my braces tightened. |
Tuesday, 2/25/03: It seemed to take forever to get started - I’d been at the hospital at 1:30 for a blood test, didn’t get finished with Sheila and the doctors until 4, and the chemo drugs weren’t ready until 5:15. The nurse had trouble finding a usable vein - tried both arms, warmed me up with some towels, and rubbed my hands before finding one she liked in my right wrist. When she finally got the apparatus ready, for the first time since this ordeal started, my courage deserted me. It had turned from an intellectual exercise into something far more visceral. When I saw the IV equipment, it was really clear that although my family and friends could support me, that needle and those drugs were going into my arm, and this part of the journey I’d do alone. The nurse gave me some time to get myself together, then started the IV.
The chemo itself was mostly painless. One drug caused an ache in my arm, so the nurse diluted it with lots of saline solution to reduce the pain. I gave them some excitement when a vein adjacent to the IV site became red. Five nurses later, they’d decided that the vein had gotten irritated, but that it would go away. They were right - 20 minutes later, it was back to normal.
I’d gotten enthusiastic about the two liters of water, and the nurse had given me 1 1/2 bags of saline. By the time they were done with the chemo and ready to check my vital signs, I said that one of my vital signs was telling me that the others would have to wait until I used the ladies’ room.
Since the nurse had so much trouble finding a vein, she strongly encouraged me to get a PICC line . I’ll discuss it with Sheila, but for now, it seems like a good idea.
Thursday, 2/27/03: Today is the day for complaining about side effects. Everyone’s favorite, nausea, is mostly held at bay by one of three drugs, and so far my hair is staying close to my head. But there are minor side effects as well. In the “why should I have any dignity” category, one of the drugs gives me the hiccups. Not the little dainty hiccups you can kind of swallow and pretend didn’t happen. These are the major “HIC” type of hiccups, the kind guaranteed to make children, adults, and even trained medical professionals giggle.
Other side effects include headaches and general tiredness. I can supposedly take Advil, but not when I take Prednisone. I’m supposed to take some drug whose name sounds like Ronconcomo when I have Advil, except that I’m supposed to take the Ronconcomo with the Prednisone. I think this is an overconstrained problem, which is perhaps why I have the headache in the first place.
Sunday, 3/2/03: Now let’s take an inventory of my freezer. Last weekend, figuring that I wouldn’t much want to cook while being treated, I made baked chicken, bean and sausage soup, and chicken-and-rice bake (aka “chicken and rice with lots of spice”). Alana was in charge of dinner for my first chemo night, and she made more manicotti than we could possibly eat. Mom made beef stew, roast chicken, stuffed cabbage, and chicken soup. Alana also brought over a Fred’s steak (sorry, no link, but if you’re near the Stanford Shopping Center, go to Schaubs and get one - you won’t regret it!). Also, we’ve got quite a bit of ice cream sent long-distance.
In other news, I remain in denial about the possibility of losing my hair, so I’m not making plans to get it cut. On the other hand, I got Mike to measure my head for a hat. There’s denial, and then there’s being an idiot.
Monday, 3/3/03: If you have small, difficult-to-find veins, you need a PICC line. To insert a PICC line, the nurse finds a big vein and puts a tube into it. Ahem. I’m now the proud owner of a PICC line and several auxiliary holes. On the unpleasantness scale, it was about like the first chemo, but took much less time. I’m rewarding myself with an afternoon of Mind Rot TV and junk food.
For those who insist on the details, the entry point of the line is on the inside of my upper right arm, about halfway up. I can’t get it wet, so I have a special sleeve to wear when I shower. I also have a repair kit and a new pair of scissors that I’m to offer to any nurse who threatens to remove the line instead of repairing it. The dressing must be changed tomorrow, and once a week until they remove it. A thousand points to Sheila for scheduling this appointment for a Monday, so I don’t have to make any extra PICC-line-care trips to the hospital.