Toxic

I have never attempted to write about chemotherapy because there really aren't words to adequately describe it.  The best adjective I can come up with is ghastly.  Knowing I'll be there for hours, I always bring several books, projects, Thank you notes to write, etc.,but I don't usually get to half of them.  "Toxic" by Brittany Spears, is a horrible song, but the lyrics and the music are rather apropos in the context of chemotherapy.  I found a video with just lyrics as the real video isn't so appropriate. 

I usually begin feeling alright; I can read, maybe write, and have a conversation with whomever has come to accompany me, but then I feel the toxins set in and I begin to feel very heavy.  Because my old/new regime includes irotican, I start to get stomach cramps, and the anti-nausea prep medicine ceases to work.  Because of association, even the mere antiseptic smell of the chemo ward makes me nauseated. My best defense is turning on my music and laying back and trying to sleep. 

A much better song, which still describes chemo sentiments is "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons:

I'm waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust
I'm breathing in the chemicals
I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my system blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive

 During yesterday's treatment, a pharmacist came to talk with me about the side effects of the drugs of my new/old chemo regime.  One thing he mentioned was that I couldn't share drinks with my little girls for the next few days, as it might expose them to the chemicals.  This makes me feel radioactive indeed!

Yesterday was a particularly rough beginning to my new round of the fight.  I always have to get my blood drawn an hour and a half before each treatment.  To borrow my friend Kim's phrase, "I've drawn enough blood to feed Edward Cullen for a year."  It takes an hour and a half because the lab needs time to process and evaluate.  This time, for the first time ever after 15 rounds, my platelet count was low enough to where they had to cancel one of my fighting drugs, Avastin, and give me a blood transfusion, which cost me an extra 4 hours in the chemo lab; and to think I was dreading the extra time as it was!  I'm not sure how I got into this mess.  I can't stand the sight of blood and I hate needles, but I have to come in contact with both constantly, and have failed to develop a thicker skin.  The blood transfusion didn't hurt, but I couldn't look up because there was a big bag of blood attached to my chemo cart.  

My day at the Cancer Center ended up being a 10 hour ordeal.  It's funny that "fighting cancer" at its lowest point looks like this:




It's also a paradox that at least while I'm there, I feel like I'm killing myself to stay alive. 

The cancer ward at the UCSD Moores Cancer Center is like chemo in the big city.  There are so many cubicles I get lost on the way back from the bathroom.  I've never really met a fellow patient, because nobody really wants to chat it up as they suffer through an experience like this.  Some patients look normal, but most look withered and sickly.  Our contemporary epidemic of cancer seems like leprosy was in ancient times, save the contagion factor.  I can't help but think of the lyrics to "I Heard Him Come:

I wondered who would come into this place.
Where dead men walk, and where the dying talk,
Of life before the curse upon them came. 

 

How I wish the Savior would come through the crowded chemo unit maze and heal me!  Someday it will happen.

Meanwhile, as ghastly as chemotherapy is, there are a couple of silver linings:

1. Weight loss is guaranteed (though I wouldn't recommend this program to anyone!)
2. I get to blame my typical idiosyncrasies (losing pieces of my daughters' ballet recital costumes, getting lost in my own home town, etc.) on "Chemo Brain," which some believe is a legitimate thing, but in my case, it's just a great cop-out!
3. I woke up the next morning feeling fine.  I just need to X out the chemo days on my calendar and plan on having good days around them.