Chemo, Round 1 (cue Rocky music. . .)

October 8th, 2009 - First a couple of thoughts about chemotherapy. I never realized that there are no nuclear or radioactive drugs used in chemotherapy; it is chemical therapy. I always figured that the hair loss and stuff was from some radioactive side effect, not a drug and body interaction. Secondly, after living a life for the last couple of years where I am trying to rid my body of toxins and harmful substances (hell, even doing a couple of colon cleanses), here I sit waiting to put very toxic chemicals into my body voluntarily. Now, I have been known to put lots of things into my body that I know are not "good" for me, but at least they're disguised as a cookie, a cheeseburger or slice of cheesecake.

I am ready (and I use this term loosely) to begin my first round of chemo. The chemo they are going to use is a series of four different drugs that someone has given the cool name of CHOP-chemotherapy. In looking over the list of drugs I am to be given there is no H drug. I guess the name of the drug was changed at some point, and it now begins with the letter A. But marketing had already settled on CHOP, so we continue to call it CHOP (though COPA has a nice ring to it.)

I sit in a large room with about 30 recliners in it, each has an IV pole next to it and also a small table in between each chair. As I sit here the room begins to fill up with other patients, not all here for the same treatment, but all here for the same reason. There are about 5 nurses who are busy getting things started with each patient; giving out the drugs. A man down the row from me does not look good. He is wearing oxygen around his side and is in obvious distress. A little later the paramedics arrive and take him away to the hospital across the street. My first session begins about an hour and a half late.

My name is called and one of the nurses who worked with the man who was in distress sits and talks with me. She lets me know what is going to happen; what drugs I am going to be given. One of the drugs is a steroid that I take at home (and had started this morning and will take for 5 straight days) the rest she will give me here now. Two of these are given as a push, where she will sit and push these drugs into my IV. The last one is a drip that is hung on the IV pole and I wait for it to drip into my body. The first push is in two syringes and takes about 15 minutes. The second is much quicker and smaller and takes about 5 seconds. The IV bag is slow. I end my treatment about 3 hours later.

The drugs I am given I am told basically kill all fast growing cells, i.e., the cancer, the hair cells, and the cells inside my mouth. I am advised to bring in some ice or something cold to suck on while I receive the treatments to keep the chemo out of my mouth by using the cold to reduce the blood flow into my mouth. I make a note to be sure to do this. I also notice other people around me who have prepared for this, I feel like such the rookie.

I leave chemo feeling like I have an extreme case of jet lag. There are so many nausea drugs and toxins in my system that I don't feel good, but I can't say what if anything hurts. I feel kind of doped and confused and really, really tired. The tiredness lasts into the next week. I have days where I feel strong, I can walk a mile or two (Saturday), to days when getting out of bed requires too much effort (Sunday). I have a metallic taste in my mouth that makes water taste funky. I have strange tingling in my fingertips. According to the list of side effects, these are to be expected.

During the days after chemo, my wife is fantastic. She has been making sure that I eat good foods. We walk to the mailbox to get the mail, go to the park down the street, and play tile rummy to pass the time. You truly don't get this disease alone; it is a disease that is shared. We trade off having our strong days and our weak days. At least we now know what to expect.

It hits me Sunday night that I only have one more day of chemo drugs to take and it is over. This realization is soon hit with the thought of no, round one is over. I still have many rounds yet to go. This is the marathon I am now running, the first five miles (days) are behind me. I cannot look at all of the miles that lay out in front of me, just take it one mile at a time. . .just one more. . .you can do it. . .it will end.