The CAN in Cancer

It has been almost 2 weeks since my first chemotherapy treatment and I'm finally getting the energy to update. I can't update this blog very well on my iPhone or iPad so writing an entry involves going up to the office and sitting in my uncomfortable desk chair at the desktop, and that just makes the whole thing feel too much like work.

I was extremely nervous for my first infusion but found it to be much easier, much less dramatic, and more routine feeling than I could have ever imagined. It helped that I had a fun nurse who was my age and made the whole experience very laid back. Since it was my first time, they were obviously out to impress me and gave me "infusion bed 23" which had a lovely view of the gardens. Accessing my port for the first time was a concern because it was still so tender from surgery the week before. Thankfully, I barely felt but a pin prick and they were able to quickly retrieve my blood samples that they needed for my participation in the clinical study that I'm doing. Then they hooked me up to some bags of goodies-saline and a bunch of IV anti-nausea medications. I was given 5 steroid pills to take to reduce any allergic reaction that I may have to the chemo meds and then my oncologist came to visit and ordered a 1mg Ativan which was also to help cut the nausea. Then my nurse covered herself in a whole bunch of protective coverings and sat next to me with a couple of syringes filled with kool aid colored fluid- Adriamycin, "the red devil". This chemotherapy is so toxic that it can burn through your skin and must be administered directly into a vein, hence all the protective gear she wore. It seems so wrong that someone is protecting themselves so much from something that is going directly into a port right next to my heart. She pushed the fluid slowly into my port over the course of 10 to 15 minutes. After that, they did an IV infusion of Cytoxan which took about 30 minutes and gives you the feeling of sinus pressure when you are being infused. I had read that you can sometimes taste strange things in your mouth during infusion so I sucked on hard candy and drank ice water, which is supposed to help reduce the risk of getting mouth sores. After that, they let me go. A rather boring report, but I'd rather this than any dramatics.

Eric and I went to lunch, I was like a drunk person thanks to the Ativan, and then I went home to sleep. The next couple of days weren't bad. I slept like a rock every night and needed naps every day due to the extreme exhaustion. I felt no nausea whatsoever. I did alternate Zofran and Compazine for the first few days because I didn't want to take any chances.

By last Thursday, when I went to get my wigs and attend Look Good Feel Better at the breast center, I was feeling pretty much back to my normal energy level. I really hope that round two brings no surprises and I can expect more of the same.

My clinical trial nurse called me yesterday to follow up on how I was doing. I told her that I only had vanity issues with treatment so far. The steroids they make you take for the day of infusion and the 3 days after make you insatiably hungry. My stomach growled all day. First thing in the morning, all through the day, while I was stuffing my face, when I went to bed and every time I woke up in the middle of the night. And since I was not having an nausea, eating was no problem. And I was one of those people who was blessed to not have any alteration of my taste buds and everything tasted freaking fabulous. Now I understand why people gain 25 pounds while undergoing breast cancer chemotherapy. Another problem with the steroids is that they can cause acne. I developed painful cystic acne on my chin, unlike anything I've ever had, even as a teenager. My face hurt to smile, even talk sometimes. I'd gladly take some nausea not to have to deal with this shit. So I'm going to talk to my oncologist about trying to reduce the amount of steroids this round to see if that helps. My face is finally starting to clear up in time to begin it all again on Friday. My hair is also starting to fall out, just a few strands here and there. Nothing at all like the amount of hair I lost on a daily basis when it was long and blonde, so I'm not in any danger of having any bald spots soon. But I'll probably get annoyed with finding hairs everywhere and shave it by the end of the weekend. I thought it was ready to do it, I really did. But as the time approaches, I keep hoping for one more day that it hangs on.

So that is my personal experience with chemotherapy round #1. Do-able, just like they said. If I can help anyone at all through this, I want women to know that if you ever are 1 in 8, you CAN do breast cancer. You CAN do a drastic body altering surgery. You CAN do chemo. Cancer was always my biggest fear, and chemo a terror. Now I have to face it and like all trials, God only gives you what you can handle. And I know that I can certainly handle cancer.