Once again, I start a new post with apologies of it
being awhile since I last post. I am still alive and kicking. My absenteeism
from writing is all due to normal, every day life things, keeping me busy and
not allowing me to sit and write. Sometimes it's nice to get caught up in day
to day activities, but I do apologize for the lack of writing. It is something
I benefit from and thoroughly enjoy. So even though we are entering a very busy
time in the school year, I will be trying to make a better effort in writing
and posting.
My story picks up where I was finally through with
tests, procedures, and the long waiting that comes with being diagnosed. I was
finally ready to begin the chemo process.....and I was scared shitless. I knew
it would entail receiving chemo through an iv, and that its not really a quick
process. (Since enduring cancer, I have been shocked by how many people
(adults) were not aware how a person receives chemo. I am very envious of these
people as I can only see not knowing means they or their families haven't
been exposed to cancer. To be so lucky). The actual part of having chemo; the
needles, drugs, etc did not bother me. It was the side effects that would
come with it that had my head spinning. I was having a real hard time
dealing with my hair was going to fall out. Dr. A had told me that there was a
good chance it would fall out, but that some people held on to their hair, or
for some, it only thinned out. I was holding on hope that my long brown hair
would be spared.
My chemo plan called for me to receive chemo on
Friday, and continue every third Friday for 6 to 8 treatments. They would redo
all the scans after 4 treatments, and if the cancer was all gone by then I
would only have to complete 6 rounds, if there was still cancer present then I
would complete 8. At this point I didn't have the results of my bone
marrow test, but we were going on with the first treatment. For my first
treatment I was to have it up on one of the floors in the Health Science Centre
instead of the ambulatory clinic where Lymphoma patients normally go. The
reason for this was because they would be giving me the chemo at a slower rate
and would be watching for a reaction to any of the drugs that were going in.
Going in that morning we knew we were there for the day, we just didn't know
what to expect.
Mom came with me on that first morning. Dad was
still home and was coming later, but for everyone else, I wanted them to
continue with life as normal as possible. I forced Lee to go to classes, and
Karla to an O.R conference. I wanted to maintain as much normalcy as possible,
but as mom and dad were in from out of town, they were the lucky winners to
join me. I was told to be at the HSC for 7:30 am with a projected start of 8
am. After registering, we went up to a floor where we were greeted by a nurse
who introduced herself (it's shocking how many names I have forgotten) and sat
us down at a desk that was in what looked like a normal hospital patient room,
other than having that desk. She began explaining to us about Lymphoma. She
gave me a useful resource about different types, highlighting the kind I had,
the stage, and then began explaining the treatment. The chemo, I learned was
called R-CHOP and that each letter represented a different drug. She explained
which ones did what and what side effects come with each one, and also gave us
pamphlets on each. The pamphlets would later come in handy because once she
said which one would cause hair loss, I didn't hear much more. I worked up the
nerve to mention how Dr. A had said some people didn't lose their hair or it
only thinned, but this nurse shut me down point blank. She told me very matter
of factly that when I came back in three weeks for my next treatment that I
would't have hair or that it would be almost gone. Of course I burst into
tears, and mom cried right along with me while trying to ask more questions. *I
know hair loss is almost always a given, and that this nurse would see it day
in day out, but a little bit of compassion/empathy/anything would of gone a
long way in that moment*. The nurse continued to talk but I don't remember much
else after the mention of becoming bald.
After what seemed like a lifetime, I was situated
onto a hospital bed. I thought it was odd as I had seen inside cancer clinics
and the patients all received chemo sat up in recliners. I didn't bother to
question this and just sat up in the bed. The nurse started my i.v and gave me
a cup of a dozen different oral meds. Some of the drugs from the letters of
R-CHOP were in there, along with a med for allergic reactions. Once I had taken
the oral meds, the nurse put on a cover up over her clothes and a pair of
gloves before handling and hanging the bag of chemo. She also put a black bag
over the bag of chemo as it's light sensitive and also, it makes any other
nurse who came in aware of what was going in so they too could take the proper
precautions before touching it. I remember thinking how unsettling it was that
people needed to take so many precautions in being around the chemo, but it was
going to be going directly into my veins. There wasn't much comfort in that. At
this point the chemo was now going into my body. There wasn't much to feel. It
was now just sit, wait, and see what/if anything happens.
Shortly after I started another patient came into
the room for treatment. I was very aware that she was there for chemo, and it
wasn't her first time. She walked into the room with a bucket hat on her head
and there were very thin, straggles of hair come from beneath the hat. Anyone
who knows me, I am bad, VERY bad, at hiding my facial reactions. I can only
imagine the look of horror on my face. It was like I was seeing a preview of
how I would be the next time I came in. I am unsure how I refrained from doing
so, but all I wanted to do was rip the i.v out of my hand and run. I just
wanted to run away from the entire situation. I should of been attending an
observation day at an elementary school, but instead I was here, in a hospital
bed receiving chemo, trying to get rid of the cancer that was in my body. I
remember closing my eyes in attempts to keep tears from coming out and I know
my mom could see I was upset again. She tried to talk to me, distract me, keep
us both focused on anything else than what was actually happening. She was
really great. I can't imagine what its like to watch your child go through
something like this, and I wish she never had to.
I can't say that the day was boring. The unknown
was keeping me on my toes. There wasn't much for me to do other than lie there
while the chemo went in, but there was constantly someone poking, prodding, and
if nothing else, just looking at me. I was under constant watch by the nurse.
Dr. A also stopped by to check in on me and see how it was going. I'm sure he
does that with all of his patients, but after the reaction of the nurse on the
day of my bone marrow aspiration, I remember wondering if this was a special
trip. He didn't stay long, just checked in to see if things were going well and
was pleased that there were no reactions thus far. At any given moment there
could of been upwards to five people just looking at me. That was a little
awkward but I tried to stay occupied with magazines, sudoku, and listening to
the hustle and bustle in the room. I wasn't the most social, but mom did talk
with the woman in the bucket hat. I learned that she too had lymphoma but that
was the only similarity in us. She initially had been told that she had the
same as me; DLBC, but on the day of her first treatment, just before it was due
to start they told her she actually had Burkitts lymphoma and her plan changed
drastically. Her type of chemo changed, she had to be admitted in order to
receive the treatment, and things weren't so straight forward anymore. I had
watched earlier how she took tubes out of the neck hole of her shirt and the
nurse hooked those tubes up to and i.v pole and that's all there was to
starting her treatment. She explained that even though she herself was a doctor
(a psychologist), she was petrified of needles and opted for a port right away.
Also, her chemo takes an entire weekend to be completed so an i.v wasn't really
ideal. I remember feeling ashamed of my earlier thoughts of pity of having to
go through what I was going through. I was so far very straight forward in my
treatment. Every time this woman spoke she mentioned of another thing that had
gone wrong or a complication she faced. I began to see that there was bright
sides to my situation.
The day continued. Everyone continued to look at
me, and nothing short of a cough or clearing my throat could make people jump.
I probably could of had a lot of fun with that, but I tried to remain still and
quiet. I didn't have any reactions to the chemo. Much like the people staring
at me, I kept waiting for something to happen to my body, but alas, nothing.
Dad came not long into me starting the chemo. Between the three of us, we would
chat. I remember being offered lunch but afraid to eat much as I was sure I
would be vomiting soon. We mostly stuck to snacks from the vending machine.
When the bag of chemo finally dripped it's last ounce into my veins (I would of
never been able to see that since the black bag covered it, but the machine
beeped it's alert), I thought I was all done. Wrong. The nurse explained I had
the CHOP part of the chemo in, but the R (rituxan) now had to go in through a
push system. She brought a huge syringe with what looked like kool aid in it,
and sat by the side of my bed. She unhooked my i.v from the bag of chemo and
hooked it up to a bag of saline and another port to the syringe. She would
allow the saline to go through my i.v and then would push a small amount of the
rituxan through, and then allow some saline to wash that through. This repeated
over and over until the syringe of rituxan was empty. It took a long time but
it was probably the most interesting of it all. Once again, no reaction to this
drug. I was very fortunate in all this going so well. Without considering any
of the many reactions my body could of had, I just really had anticipated vomiting
throughout the day. But I (thankfully) had a very uneventful day.
Once the treatment was completed, I felt about 20
lbs heavier. I had a lot of fluid on and that needed to be gone immediately. I
was instructed to drink a lot of water to flush out everything I had just taken
in. I was warned that my urine would be a red colour because of the rituxan and
that I would know that was flushed out when I could pee and it be a normal
colour again. But I was to continue to drink a lot even once that colour was
gone. The drugs that were in my system were very harmful to my organs (theres
that warm, good feeling again), and I needed to flush them out. The quicker the
better especially for things like my liver and kidneys. Besides the
instructions to drink lots, I was given prescriptions for follow up meds that I
was to take for five days after that day, a prescription for anti- nausea meds,
a prescription for something for constipation, and a list of possible other
side effects and what to do if they occur. Other than that, we were told we
would hear about a follow up appointment for my bone marrow aspiration results,
and they would see us in ambulatory in three weeks for my next treatment. With
that, we were free to go.
Mom and I walked out of there to the unknown with
my loot bag of prescriptions and information booklets and pamphlets (worst loot
bag ever). We had no idea what to expect in the coming days, but one thing we
could do was cross off one treatment. One down.....five (or seven) to go.
-K
Thanks again to anyone and everyone who continues to read my story. I
promise to try to post on a more regular basis. I appreciate every single
person who takes the time to read. Feel free to share with others :)
