chemo three: halfway there (livin' on a prayer)

(shut up, bon jovi!!!!)

ok... third chemo day.  third out of an ironclad six.  (i had thought i could get out of the last three chemos because i didn't feel the tumour anymore ....silly me.)

anyway....let's tell the news.

i came in, and for the first time got my lab work done through my port.  (the other times, my port had been giving me trouble.)  the nurse was having a hard time finding where the access point was.  (she said that my port was pointing upward.... leave it to me to be all askew.)  then she goes to put the needle in, and punches it harder than she wanted to.  profuse apologies.  no worries, i say, as i always do.  it's sore, and achy, but i know she didn't mean to.  it was because my skin was a bit thick around the port area.  (it's always my skin.)

she then put a line that the nurses can access to put in the various drugs that i have coming to me.  again, i hadn't gone through this.... it's weird to have this thing coming out of my body, hanging like a thread.  almost cyborg-like.

i go in to see the oncologist.  she almost immediately goes into the bad news..... she wants me to do all six chemos.  she says the classic line all doctors are probably taught:  "if it were my sister, or closest friend, i would make her do the six chemos."  i'm more disappointed than i let on.  i had tried my best to block out the hope of getting out of this mess early...but not enough to get my heart hoping.  oh well.

she asked me if i was more tired this time around.  i told her that the prednisone crash was a bit more severe this last time (nausea, mostly), but that i mostly was active, and not weary at all.  it sort of surprised her.  i'm glad for my extra energy.... i hope it lasts so i can really do things with the kids.

i told her about the doctor who said that lymphoma is not curable.  she was surprised, and asked if he meant a specific kind (like mantle cell).  i told her that my online cancer friend was told "all lymphomas."  she said that the type i had has a 50% cure rate.  straight cure.  she also said that i had an excellent chance of being in the 50% range, because my blood levels looked good.  (by now, a lot of cancer patients would be dealing with anemia.)

i asked her what would happen if it did come back.  she said there was a second type of chemo to try (r-ice) and then, if that didn't work, then a stem cell replacement, that would come from my own bone marrow.  (she said that i would tolerate my own stem cells better than a donors.)  so, there's always another treatment... this time, another two.  (which is better than one.  well, most days, anyway.)

so... disappointment, but not too bad.  i just need to shake it off, and go on.

she also said that she was scheduling me for a ct scan.  (she couldn't do a pet scan because the insurance said i couldn't do it because three months hadn't passed yet.)  a ct scan, as i understand it, will not show lighted up points where the cancer is.  but, since we know where the cancer is, it will zero in on those areas, and see if it's shrinking or not.  but, no matter what the results, i'm still doing three more chemos.  yeah.

now, i'm hooked up to the benadryl, and the anti-nausea drugs.  i had two tylenols, as well.  (this all gets me ready for any reactions i would have against the rituximab.)  the nurse who's in charge of my chemo is doing pretty good to tell me what i'm taking.... which is always nice.  she just told me that this much benadryl causes restless legs.... a problem i had had before, but didn't know why.

she also said that my bone marrow looks excellent, and my new white blood cells aren't as low as one would expect.  in fact, i look so good that she thought i was doing my first chemo.  so, there's that.

now i'm getting the vincristine and the aunomycin pushed through my port manually.  it's a tedious process for the nurse, and a bit uncomfortable for me, because i feel like i have to entertain her.  i used to be able to do that, but it's harder when i'm the one who's vulnerable.  i swear by the end of this i'll be more compassionate than ever towards the patrons that come in needing help....

it's hard not talking to someone who asks "whatcha thinking?" when you look off into the distance.  (ends up she had studied to be a psychologist before becoming an oncology nurse.  she's a good egg.... and we were able to talk without effort about tornados, helping people, earthquakes, and being a pediatric oncology nurse.  just being a nurse is brave.... to be an oncology nurse is the bravest of all.)

cyclophosophamide next....by iv. one hour of it.

i try to keep up with my social media stuff while i'm doing chemo.  (especially now, since i seem to be getting the benadryl fog at the end, rather than the beginning.)  i haven't been putting too many personal things on facebook.... there are friends and co-workers i don't want to freak out.  i'll be glad when this is over, and i can complain about things again.  (cancer makes you want to be this noble person .... and when you complain, people over-sympathize, and try to boost you up, when all you want to do is grouse.)

this is the first time i've come in with a clear nose... and it smells like pesticide in here.  and alcohol.  and regret.  (shut up! that's a smell, too.)

benadryl.  it's not messing with me....so far.  i have that full feeling.... lots of liquids, lots of drugs.... and the blurred vision thing is going on, too.  i'm also getting colder.... i know the drugs are a blessing, and i should be happy when i get them.... but it's hard to think this way when you're cold, numb, sad, nervous ... etc.

and now, the hour and a half of rituximab.  i've been online looking at articles about paul simon ("the sound of handcuffs"?  ouch.)  i've also written a poem from the point of view of the chemo drugs.  (but everyone will think it's about a fair weathered lover who leaves too soon.)

the thing i need to do is not despair.  i just have to keep doing what i'm doing, regarding the drugs.  be nonchalant.  don't think too much about it being poison, and concentrate on eating only the very best for me.  this time, i have to do a picnic with the boys.  the weather's keen for that, and i really need to walk more.

i'm a bit on the melodramatic side.  i used to say "i'm dying" over the craziest things.  when i was hungry.  when i was thirsty.  when i was bored with my life.  it was an overacted kind of moan about things that really didn't warrant the attention.  now i don't have the luxury of being over the top, because what's more over the top than cancer?

i think i'm pretty much done live blogging this chemo.   i hadn't intended on doing so, but i have a lot to talk about, i guess.  i haven't even gone into my wig journey (i'm going to get a few more, so i might as well wait until then.)

so... i'm over the disappointment.  i'm resolved to completing this mess.  i'll make it, as i always do.  awkwardly, but strongly.  i just have to trust in myself.... no matter what anyone says.

i'm all that i've got.