What Week Are We On? Oh Yes, My Inaugural Chemo Treatment

Week 18: Sorry, folks. I have some catching-up to do. Let me start with last week, my first official chemo session. I can't believe it, but I may be shrinking! Upon my arrival for chemo (and only after I forked-over my $30 co-pay of course), I was sent off to a "special" waiting room. But for the brief time I sat in the "gen pop" area, I noticed it was crowded and there wasn't much in the way of reading material. Being the Samaritan-type that I am, I grabbed a bunch of magazines from my special waiting room and walked back up to the front to hand them out. I thought it was the least I could do for people who might have bad news pending. I didn't see any baldies among them, so there was probably a good chance many were new to the oncology world. My world; again. Anyway, I was promptly hauled off to be given blood tests, measurements and questionnaires. It was at that time I was told that I was 5' 6-1/2" tall. To the best of my knowledge, I've been 5' 7-1/2" all of my adult life. I wondered, "what the...," but I wasn't there to debate. I had other things to worry about. What's an inch of shrink? I suppose it might matter to guys, especially in cold water, but I didn't care. I was set-up in a private room about the size of a one-bed area in a two-bed hospital room. I had windows, a barcalounger, a small flat-screen TV, guest chair, and pillow. What more could a gal ask for? They stuck a needle connector thing into my medi-port, which I can only describe as a disk beneath my skin that feels like a pencil eraser. I assume whatever it's made out of closes back up when the needle is removed. Anyway, they drew blood, tested it, gave me the green light, and then started my first fix. The initial IV was an anti-nauseous drip. Then came the platinum stuff, the Carboplatin, followed by a bag of the Taxotere. The whole thing took about 3-1/2 hours. Time that will be sucked out of my life for months to come. But the way I look at it, I'm willing to give up 3-1/2 hours for a potential 3-1/2 years return-on-investment. Or so one can hope. At the end of the day, there was no anaphylactic shock, no cardiac arrest or paramedic care. Thus I earned the respect and admiration of all the staff, and the right to drive myself to and from future treatments. Meanwhile, I was returned safely to my husband who had come to pick me up and take me back home to rest...and to see what happened next. Nothing all evening. Fabulous! T he following day? ...I wasn't conscious. I was feeling tired, so I laid down to take a little, mid-morning cat nap. I woke up five hours later. I couldn't believe I slept that long, especially when I noticed 4 phone messages and a fax. 'Hadn't heard a thing. I was utterly zonked. Over the weekend I started feeling nauseous, but fortunately, it was easily remedied with one of the prescriptions I was given. And that was it. Not too bad! If those side effects are any indication of how my body will respond to future treatments, I'll be loving life!