Chemotherapy Day 1 - A Timeline

8:29 - The phone rings. I answer, pretending that I wasn't still asleep. It's my Oncology Nurse reminding me to bring my prescriptions to infusion. 

8:45 - Google "What should I wear to Chemotherapy?" 
Answer: "The American Cancer Society recommends dressing in layers. Dress comfortably in sweatpants or yoga pants. Choose light materials so if you sweat you won't feel sticky. Wear a low neck or V-neck shirt so nurses can easily reach port to administer chemo. Bring an extra shirt in case you sweat through the first." Gross. I don't sweat.

9:10 - Send a sarcastically complaining text to my sisters-in-law, who helped me clean out my closet this week. 
"Oh my gosh! Where are all my clothes? I don't have anything ill-fitted and outdated to wear to chemo!"

9:15 - Apply Lidocaine-Prilocaine Cream to the port site to help decrease the pain from the from the infusion. 

9:58 - Make fun of Scott for bringing a wide-brim hat to chemo.
"Do you think it's going to be really sunny in there?"
"It's in case they kick me out and I need to go for a walk."
Acknowledge that it's a real possibility that someone will kick Scott out. Compliment him on his forethought.

10:00 - Arrive in the infusion room and get directed to chair #6. Settle in for the next 4 hours. 

10:02 - Notice the lady across from me who is crying and the man to the left of me who looks to be in his early 30's. Get sad. 

10:15 - Start sweating. 

10:25 - Listen to a nurse trying unsuccessfully to get an I.V. started in the elderly patient next to me. Listen to her telling the woman that she might be a good candidate for a port, so they have better luck with vein sticks. Notice the patient is starting to cry. Get mad. Hear the patient wincing and see her feet twitching from the pain. Get anxious. Offer her my hand to squeeze. "Absolutely not. But thank you." Feel stupid.

10:27 - See Scott offer my elderly neighbor a trash can for her Kleenex and witness the glare of irritation she offers in return. 

10:28 - Receive a text from Scott: "She is a real grouch. I don't feel sad for her at all." Laugh. Feel happy that I married him.

10:32 - Scott goes to the bathroom for the second time since we arrived. Fuss a little about him being ridiculous. I think he needs to see a urologist. 

10:40 - Have my vitals taken. Blood pressure is106/70. Not too bad for a nervous patient!

10:45 - Learn that the application of Lidocaine I did was insufficient. I just smeared it over the port like skin cream. I was supposed to put a big glob on and then cover it with a bandage to prevent it from wiping off onto my clothes. The nurse asks me if I want to try again and wait another 45 minutes. I do not. I tell her I'll be tough. 

10:50 - Injection. I was tough and it was fine. 

10:52 - Blood draw. We have to wait for the results before the actual chemo to make sure my white blood cells, platelets, and hemoglobin are at acceptable levels. I think I live here now. 

10:58 - Go over the anti-nausea plan. It includes three I.V. medications that I will get before the chemo and then two oral medications to take at home. 

11:17 - Go over the medication plan for possible headaches with an oncology nurse. Become anxious, again. 

11:32 - Learn about the steroid I'll be receiving today to help prevent hypersensitivity reaction to the chemo. My nurse tells me that medical professionals have a love/hate relationship with it, because it will help minimize the chance I develop severe itching or nausea, but it also can make it hard to sleep and make me irritable. 
"Well, I don't care about irritability. That's going to be his problem" I say gesturing to Scott. "But I do like to sleep."

11:41 - Talk to the nurse about the Doxorubicin. This red drug can make my tears, sweat, and urine red. I'm not to be concerned. It also can cause mouth sores and a decrease in ability to taste. So, it is advised that I suck on a popsicle during that part of the treatment to constrict the blood vessels in my mouth. FINE. If I have to have a popsicle, I GUESS, I will. 

11:46 - Have a conversation with Scott about how he secretly hopes I get red tears.
"Me too! I don't cry very easily anymore, though. Maybe we'll have to watch a sad movie?"
"I don't want to watch a sad movie."
"Well, how are we going to get me to cry, then?"
"I don't want you to cry."
"Are you paying attention?"
"Yes. You want to cry? Oh! The red tears! I'm with you now."
"You're not good at this."

11:54 - Pre-drugs. I launched a complaint with my nurse about one of the drugs looking like a giant syringe full of chicken fat. She promised that it wasn't and tried to convince me it looked more like a pina colada. I maintain my assessment.
The most notable reaction was a painful, prickly sensation from the steroid. It only lasted about 5 minutes, though. Luckily, the other two (including the chicken fat) were administered without issue.

12:08 - Take my I.V. pole to the bathroom with me. Notice that there is a little uncleanliness on the toilet seat. Wash it and then wash my hands before proceeding with my original purpose. Wonder how I went from cancer patient to scullery maid so quickly. 

12:35- Popsicles! 1st chemo drug as a push from two different syringes. 

12:58 - 2nd chemo drug as a slow drip.

1:22 - Take my I.V. pole to the bathroom again. Notice that I'm a bit tangled and make the misguided decision to walk a couple of circles around it to unwind the tubing. Get dizzy. Go to the bathroom. It's red already! Despite the forewarning, I was a little surprised. 

1:46 - Chemo is over.

1:57 - Neulasta Onpro is applied. It is an on-body injector, meaning it will deliver medication 27 hours after application. There was a small needle poke and then the needle goes back into the device and leaves behind a catheter. Tomorrow evening, the catheter will slowly administer the medication, which reduces the risk of infection and hospitalization. It's pretty cool. You can read about it here.

2:05 - We stop at Costco so Scott can get a bunch of Liquid I.V. for me. The nurse recommended it, because the chemo is good for killing cancer but really bad for me. I have to stay really hydrated to flush it out. 

2:50 - We arrive home to beautiful bouquets of flowers picked by Laila (who would like to go by the name Jesse, now). Peonies, Iris, Rhododendron, false indigo, phlox, salvia: they are all over the house and bring lots of joy to an otherwise mostly stupid day.  

2:53 - I blew my nose. It wasn't red. Disappointing. 

5:30ish - A little nauseous. Not terrible, but certainly noticeable. 

6:18 - I ate half of a banana. It tasted weird. 

6:44 - I'm bored of taking notes, so I'm stopping now. Plus demain ou peut-être samedi. (I just kind of felt like writing in French. It means "more tomorrow or maybe Saturday.")

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