Better living through chemotherapy
A week ago I felt hopeful, confident and happy. Now I am sore, weak and in pain. These fucking side effects are for the birds. As of this morning I have lost 23 pounds, and about 7 since last Thursday when the chemo started.
Some people have asked about how I am doing. Here's a rundown.
Wednesday the 6th: PICC line insertion. It was fun at the time. Yulblog. I was there. Several of you saw me. I looked pretty good, didn't I?
Thursday the 7th: Chemo. It was placid and tranquil, like a clear lake on a sunny afternoon. But seriously, it was perfectly fine. Rose and Sujerin were there. It took all day, but it was a nice day. They gave me my bag of 5FU, which fed a me constant stream of it over five days.
Friday the 8th: Woke up feeling like a million bucks. By 10:30, I felt like $10 000. But the day went fine. Sebastien was in town from Manila! The three of us checked out one of the Fringe Festival shows and then hit up Mile End, where we were commenting on other patrons. We were the only people there over 30. Or even close.
Saturday the 9th: I worked until five. Then it was tea with Sujerin, Sebastien, Rose and Petunia. I continued to feel more or less fine. I had a wonderful time. I then got a call from one of my drunken nephews who were in town and wanted to party. I told them that I would meet them for breakfast in the morning.
Sunday the 10th: Walked and walked and walked and walked. Walked to breakfast, then to Tam-Tams, then home. Which is alot when you're doing chemo and with a child that doesn't like walking that much. I was tired, but again, fine.
Monday the 11th: My boss is too sick to come to work, so I am trying my best to keep things under control so we can deliver the game. I feel less fine, but I can work. Food starts to taste REALLY bad. Here's where I pretty much stop eating.
Tuesday the 12th: Same thing. I start to feel more weak, and food tastes worse.
Wednesday the 13th: I request to go home early (which means 5:30). Three hours later my temperature skyrockets to 38.8. I spoke to my oncologist who said that I had to go into emergency, do some blood tests and see what happens.
Well, what happened was that the emergency was full. I waited 30 minutes to see triage (which by itself is nothing). She said that I would see someone right away. By "right away", she meant 2 hours later. I am not complaining about that, though. Hell, I was lucky that I had an examination room to sleep in instead of being out in the hall like the rest of them. There were no rooms, you see.
Right outside my door was a crazy man, M. Rochon. Rochon was about 5'8", 325 pounds, maybe in his late 40s. Imagine leaving a sick and scared 2-year-old by himself in the hospital. This is pretty much how this guy acted. All night, for the next 10 hours. He would cry and wail at anyone who would listen in his ridiculous voice. "Garde, j'ai faim! Garde, j'ai chaud! Garde, j'ai froid! Garde, j'ai peur! Garde, je veux me lever debout! Garde, j'ai fait pipi dans l'lit!" And sometimes he would mix it up with "Monsieu! Monsieu! Monsieu! Monsieu! Monsieu! Monsieu! Infirmière! Infirmière! Infirmière! Infirmière! Infirmière!" And then "Nurse!" As I was being taken to the X-Ray room, I passed him and asked his nurse if he was going to be all right. She said yes. Then he looked me directly in the eyes and said "I'm sorry, sir." How can you stay mad after that? Besides, I didn't think I'd see him again, anyway. How wrong I was.
After I got my X-rays, I went back. The doctor came by an hour later, asked some questions and left. The nurse finally took my blood and hooked me up to an IV with saline solution. They decided to keep me overnight. On a table in a room.
I had been developing gas pain and diarrhea for about a day, and here is where it really started. I had to go every hour or so. But it's not as though I was losing much sleep. Rochon was freaking out all night, so I got no rest anyway.
Thursday the 14th: The reason why I had to go through all this was because of the fear that I might be neutropenic. I almost was, in fact. The fever is the big indicator. I was kept in hospital all night because they wanted to determine that my white blood cell count dropped due to the chemo and not some other thing. When the morning came, I received my second bloodletting. I had had some Neupogen to increase the white blood cell count, and it seems to have paid off. By 10 am, I was double what I was the night before. I don't really remember what happened over the next hour hours since I was sleeping for most of that time, but by 2:30, I was free to go.
However, I was told to make sure that a nurse follow up with me with certain other test results that they were waiting on. I walked over to oncology and ended up speaking to the nurse manager who seemed concerned about what had happened when I told her the story. She wanted my oncologist to take a quick look at me, and that took another hour. He seemed satisfied, but the nurse manager called me back later that day.
Friday the 15th: I never called her back until this morning. I told her about more symptoms. I may have a fungal infection in my mouth (yummy!), so she got me a prescription for some antibiotics. I have to pick those up after work today.
So that's the story so far. I feel like hell and hope that this is as bad as it gets. Any questions?