What is chemo day like? (2007)

Someone asked me today "What's chemo like?" I went to my old blog to grab my essay on the subject. I guess I hadn't started to blog at that point in my treatment in 2007, because I eventually found the essay in a folder, "Cancer Writings," where I kept some of the group emails I was sending at the time. My observations this time are pretty much the same, so I'm throwing the thing on here for anyone as curious about the details as I was back then.

Hi fans--

Apologies for the group email again.

Had my first chemo today. I was "in the chair" (as we say) from 9 a.m. to 2:30. It should go a bit quicker next time.

I am easily entertained, as you know, so the time went relatively quickly. Curiosity is a wonderful thing. But no wireless Internet connection; major bummer. As if they can't afford it, huh?

I was on my own (friend dropped me off) until the final hour when Greg came to pick me up. I'd have to say I quite enjoyed it because it was all new. Five more rounds to go. (Every other week for 12 weeks with today's recipe -- plus a short visit for a shot to help boost white cell production the day after each round.)

I feel fine so far (though of course can't sleep), after several hours of feeling like I was on speed tonight at home. Everyone warns that the bad stuff doesn't happen for the first few days. I have the feeling (silly me) that I will breeze through this. I am armed with antiemetic drugs just in case (thanks for the tip, Lee. No one was going to tell me about the "magic pills"!). And I think I'm psyched for the possible day or two of all over pain coming up.

You can stop here if you aren't into more details. Some of you, I know, might like to know more about the chemo adventure -- and thus I continue with observations.
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If I needed more friends, this would be the place to make them. I actually try to avoid making more friends because I have quite plenty -- but if I were to want new friends I would do well to choose from those in chemo who appear to be not long for this life -- thereby minimizing my commitment! . . . Like the man who sat next to me today with lung cancer. Whereas I have statistics about the potential benefits this regimen is likely to provide me, they didn't give him any statistics at all and I have to wonder what his motivation is. And I look around at the number of others in their late 70s or 80s and it occurs to me the medical industry just gives some cancer patients hope by keeping them busy with treatments? And they are of the generation so used to trusting doctors that they probably haven't considered NOT taking the treatments?

I am in an area where there are four "pods" of chemo, about 5 recliners each, all placed for easy access by attending nurses and conducive to conversation between patients. (Typical conversation starter being, of course, "what kind do you have, and do you come here often?)

Two pods have TV; I chose one that didn't. There are visitor chairs scattered about, as well. People either bring food or have the visitors fetch stuff from the cafeteria. I was too high during the first half of my stay to think of food (slurring my words and a definite impairment when trying to type!), but later had an apple and a few almonds.

There are trays that fold out on each side the chair. One side is for my stuff. One side is for the nurse's stuff. The nurse who gets you started on IV arrives with however many bags you'll be getting. Usually two are dripping at a time. There are maybe three bags of pre-med meds -- among them the Benadryl that made me high and warded off allergic reactions to all the other meds. Another is anti-puke stuff. After the pre-meds I think I had four other bags to sit through -- two of which were the same drug in two doses.

The attending nurses roam within the pods. I cannot imagine how they ever keep track of whose IV is beeping (needing attention) because I could never tell if my beeps were my beeps or my neighbor's. The nurses encourage us to grab their attention when we beep because there's so much beeping that they naturally tend to tune it out. Some patients have IV ports surgically placed under the skin because they are there so often it becomes difficult to access a vein each time. I don't have a port (yet) and hope my veins hold out.

There is a constant stream of patients who unplug their IV and roll it with them to the bathroom. We are all within easy sight of the outer waiting rooms and registration desks. Some patients, I think, have their treatments in private rooms nearby, in beds. These are the ones who are really scary . . . like walking death. Smooth and hairless, appearing bloodless, scarcely able to walk to the bathroom on their own. They come in all ages.

Social workers and other support service people stopped to chat with me today because I was new. Everyone was great. I gave some thought to ordering a wig (had my Zip-lock bag of hair from last night with me for color matching), but I think I'll stick with hats. I can either buy a soft liner to wear over my sensitive scalp with my own hats -- or buy special chemo hats with specially soft liners. I am surprised how reasonable these American Cancer Society catalog items are. And since I am estimated to be shiny bald for at least three months, should get good use of whatever I choose.

I was unindated with written information today too. Print-outs of side effects that require immediate action; other side effects that should be reported within 24 hours. Nutrition tips. And on and on and on. I read these while I was high, so plan to reread them after, perhaps, I get some sleep sometime.

Several staff members made me feel good about deciding to buzz my head in advance. They all said how well I can pull off the short hair -- and I have to agree it's not the worst look for me (Greg begs to differ!)

I guess I'll try to read a bit and hopefully doze off.

Let me know if you have questions! I have more hours in the day than when I used to sleep, you know.

Love, M-

AGAIN: THESE WERE OBSERVATIONS FROM MY BOUT WITH CANCER IN 2007.

Last time I lost some long-ish hair during treatment. This time it won't seem as dramatic.