Feeling Human

Day 5 of chemotherapy.

I feel like a human today.

A very hungry human.

A very hungry human that cannot eat anything because everything she looks at makes her nauseous.

*sigh*

Chemo has been an interesting adventure so far. Mostly because a) I hate being sick, b) I hate being dependent on others, and c) I hate not being in control.

So I guess I should get over that.

So here's how it went:

The chemo clinic is set up to be a nice, comfy place to get toxins pumped into your body. I got to pick a recliner, and then the nurse inserted the catheter into my port which delivers the IV meds directly into my subclavian artery.

The first two bags they hooked up were anti-nausea drugs. They each took about 20 minutes. There is a chance that these drugs can cause headache, as well as a host of other side effects just as bad as the cancer drugs. But I guess its worth it to decrease the nausea.

The third drug the nurse pushed directly into the IV line. This was the first cancer drug - Adriamycin. The cancer drugs kill the fast growing cells in your body. These cells include cancer, hair, and cells like those in your mouth that are replaced quickly. So, since this drug has the possibility of causing mouth sores, I was provided with a popsicle - a green one - to suck on while the drug was being administered. I guess cold stops the cells from absorbing anything new, so with ice in my mouth the mouth cells are less likely to take in the poison. And I got a popsicle.

The fourth drug, Cytoxan, is the other cancer drug. This one took about an hour to drip during which I beat my husband at a nice game of Travel Scrabble (ha ha!).

And then I was done. Easy, huh?

I actually felt pretty good when I was done. No big deal. So we went to Costco and proceeded to buy lots of easy to fix food so that Bryan can feed himself when I'm sick and/or fatigued.

On the way home, things started going down hill.

By the time we got home I had a raging headache, chills, and a stomach that was trying to be anywhere except where a stomach should be.

Prior to my chemo session, I was provided with a whole protocol of what to do in case of nausea, so I started through the list as quickly as I could. First pill - Compazine  - didn't work. Thirty VERY long minutes later, I tried the second - Ativan. Ativan is an anti-anxiety drug, but it is also a known reliever of chemotherapy-caused nausea. So not only does it make your stomach feel better, but it makes you feel less stressed about your stomach feeling better. It also "may cause drowsiness" which is medical speak for "It will make you pass the hell out".  Which I promptly did. I woke up 6 hours later to no nausea, a slight headache, and a slightly worried husband. And then I went to bed.

Day 2 I felt fine. I went to work. I talked to people. I laughed. Ha ha ha. I actually ate dinner. This chemo isn't so bad!

Day 3 I woke up with a slight headache. I did a few chores around the house. I walked 3 miles on my new treadmill (thanks, husband!). And then the chemo beast reared its ugly head. Like the flip of a switch, I felt like crap. I took an Ativan for the nausea that had just moved in, laid down on the couch, and promptly passed out. Five hours later I woke up to the worst headache I have ever experienced. Every piece of food I looked at made me want to throw up. I tried Tylenol to no avail. I proceeded to lay and whimper on the couch. And then I went to bed just to stop feeling what I was feeling. Blah.

The headache woke me up on Day 4. It alternated between my ears, the top of my head, my temples, and my sinuses. No let up, no relief. I felt like my head was being stabbed repeatedly. I still couldn't look at food, so I ate a dry piece of white toast to keep my stomach from turning. Yum.

Day 4 was also the day for my plastic surgery consult. Lucky me. So not only did I feel like shit, but I got to go talk about the best way to chop off and replace my breasts. The doctor did not endear himself to me when he walked into the exam room and said, "So how can I help you today?"

Really??

He asked a few more stupid questions that I took as flippant and then I repaid him by bursting into tears. Take that!

He excused himself to bring himself up to speed on my case (i.e. actually look at my MRI) and then came back in apologetic and serious and regained my confidence by actually showing that he knew what he was doing. Based on my case, he recommended double mastectomy with a bilateral LD flap procedure. This was basically what I was expecting, so it wasn't too much of a shock. Even though right now I only have a confirmed tumor in my left breast, the right one has an undetermined spot that doesn't show up on mammograms. So how do you track that one? Go in every 6 months and have an MRI? No. Apparently, you just get rid of the breast so you don't have to worry about it and get two matching replacements.

The replacement surgery has lots of options to it, but because I will probably have to have radiation therapy afterwards, it is to my advantage to have a procedure that reuses some of my own tissue. Long story short, they take a large piece of the latissimus dorsi muscle from your back, slide it to the front of your body, and use it help remodel your new breast. Big scars everywhere. Decreased strength in your back for the rest of your life. Not a boob job. I won't go into more detail, but you get the idea.

This is where you have the conversation with yourself about self image and the value of normality. I've had it with myself. It doesn't make any sense.

So all of this occurred while my head was throbbing and I felt like I wanted to die. Perfect.

The one good part of the day was discovering that McDonald's Mango Pineapple smoothies are actually something that taste great and don't make me want to vomit.

After all this fun, I went home, placed a call to the chemo nurses begging for help with my headache, and went to sleep.

The next 8 hours were a blur of trying not to move so as to not get sick and not make my head throb any more then possible. I even tried putting ice packs on my head. Oh....and I was starving but couldn't eat anything.

The nurses eventually called me back and told me to try......wait for it......Ibuprofen. Really? But it worked. I woke up from my next nap with no headache. Hallelujah!

So that brings us to today. Day 5. Me feeling like a human being. I can move my eyes without suffering. I'm not nauseous. I still can't think about food without feeling a little sick, though. So far, I've been able to handle white toast, ginger ale, canteloupe, and, surprisingly, pumpkin spice muffins from Costco. Baby steps, I guess.

I'm hoping this will continue through the next week or so. I've got a check up with my oncologist on Monday to see how I'm handling things. (Hah!) I don't have another chemo session until the day before Thanksgiving which, if it follows the pattern, may mean that I'll feel ok for the holiday.

At least I know more about what to expect now. So I guess I'll work with it and just keep trying to feel human. Definitely something I've come to appreciate more lately. Funny how it takes things like this to remind us of the simple things. You're welcome. :)

There is no way in hell I can even think about having a cocktail right now.
But you should definitely have one for me.