Baby's First Chemo

 

Today, I had my first chemo infusion at Kaiser. 

Despite being incredibly nervous, it went very well. The Kaiser nurses are amazing, and it was painless and, if anything, kind of boring. I was there for three and a half hours, and the worst side effect so far is that my back is sore from sitting so long.

If you're interested in diving into this, here are links to the two different chemotherapy drugs I am taking:

Carboplatin ( IV )
http://chemocare.com/chemotherapy/drug-info/carboplatin.aspx

Etoposide ( IV on Day #1 and Oral liquid on Day#2and 3)
http://chemocare.com/chemotherapy/drug-info/etoposide.aspx 

 The carboplatin is infused once every three weeks. I also get a dose of the etoposide while I am there, but then bring home pills to dose myself over the next two days. 

In addiion, I am taking pain pills (both hydrocodon and morphine) and antinausea drugs to help keep me from getting sick. My doctor says there are many people who have limited reaction to the drugs, so I'm hoping to be part of that lucky group. They think I will not loose all my hair, but I will experience temporary hair thinning. I'm still not sure if this is going to be the impetus for me to go back to having short hair.

The weirdest thing about all of this is thinking of myself as a "cancer patient." There are definitely times when I have to almost pinch myself and say "I have cancer!" It seems so unbelievable. On the whole, I'd rather be saying "I won the lottery!"  But I still believe this is doable.

Neuroendocrine carcinoma is an odd way to have as esophageal cancer, but since I never smoked nor drank, the "traditional" esophageal cancers are not for me. I expect to go through this, and come out the other side, still here.

How do I plan to move forward? It's all kind of like an out-of-body experience. I go in, and just try to release my body to the medical teams while I stay inside my own head. They are sticking needles in my arm and filling me with toxic chemicals, but somehow, I'm not really there. I'm observing cancer the same way I observe Judaism: from a distance.

I apologize, but I couldn't use any of the resources that are out there, such as Caring Bridge, Care Pages, etc etc. It's just not my style (as the title of this post may have suggested.) I don't want pictures of sunsets and flowers and aphorisms posted around my words. I approach this whole thing with humor, as I approach pretty much everything else in my life. It has served me well, in my relationship, with my kids, in my career. Why not with my cancer? 

If I get too sick/weak to post, Tom will update this page as needed. But mostly, you'll be hearing from me. If you want to keep up-to-date, you can sign up to get email alerts when there is a new post. Feel free not to, and to check back when you want, if ever. Also feel free to share this with anyone you think might be interested. I am not keeping this a secret all. My cancer is an open book. Hopefully, one that is disposable.

The response to my first email/blog post has been unbelievable and overwhelming.  I'm so grateful for the community we have all built together.

The journey is underway. Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy ride. The next infusion is March 1st, though I'll update about how I'm doing as the drugs go through my system and as I have the upcoming MRI and PET Scan. Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close up.

Comments

  1. Ok, buster, this may be the wrong time to say this, but I'm gonna murder you if you keep naming your posts stuff like Baby's First Chemo!
    I'm having an out of body experience myself over this whole megillah, but weirdly, the world keeps turning and I'm working from home right now. My comment will have to fit into the 20 minutes that I'm "off duty" but supposed to be supporting my team interpreter.
    I fully support your avoidance of websites like CaringBridges.com. HappyPeppyBalloon.com, or Friendsofthefriendless.com. I promise to always reference Lucy, The Flintstones, Gilligan's Island or The Flying Nun on this blog. If you're going to throw All About Eve AND Sunset Boulevard in one sentence, this is what you get, mister.
    The term "cancer patient" is definitely out. You have to follow the new "person with x" formula. Person with a disability. Person with Judaism. Person with homosexuality. Get with the program, son! I guess I'm now a person with advanced age world weariness. I'm barely "woke" from my midmorning nap.
    I'm also a person with love for you. I'll stop being a blaaaaabermouth (oh, Honeymooners too?). I hope the chemo is taking it easy on you. We'll talk. xo
    Sister Sixto.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog