real world

Good Morning Folks. Yesterday was my first round of Chemotherapy and I took it at this massive cancer treatment center. While the floor was relatively empty, I took a quick photo of the cubicle across from me and specifically timed it when no one else was in the line of sight for privacy reasons. This floor was massive, and I did my math correctly; there are around 120 of these cubicals, and by the time I left around noonish, pretty much every slot was filled. These were serviced by around 30 nurses with a handful of roamers on each side. It is consistently amazing to me just how much cancer is happening in order to support a center like this. The crew continues to be amazing, and there was even a floater roaming around constantly seeing if we needed anything. She made a run through the cubicles with a box full of snacks asking if anyone wanted anything. The chair shown was way more comfortable than I expected it to be. It reclined a bit and had both built-in heat and built-in massage functionality. At 6’4″, my legs stuck out too far to be able to support the footrest fully extended, so I mostly just sat there in the default configuration. I got to the parking lot of the cancer center around 6:30 am, and they opened up around 6:45. I had to make a trip to the Lab to get my port hooked up, and before that, a quick visit by the finance office to sign some waivers before starting. I was seated on the infusion floor by around 8:30, but the actual process did not take place for a bit. They were waiting on my lab work to get back, and given how many people were actively on the floor at that point, it makes sense why it might have taken a bit of time. Initially was given a bolus of a steroid and a long lasting anti-nauseau med that should, in theory, last for three days before I need to figure out if I have to take any of the prescription meds for the same purpose. After this ran through my system, I had to wait around 30 minutes for everything to cycle before I started the next phase. I am taking a treatment package known collectively as “Folfox” where the first round is a dose of Oxaliplatin, which takes about 2.5 hours to cycle through. The Oxaliplatin actually goes a bit quicker, but there is a bag of a vitamin mixture that is given at the same time, which took a bit longer to finish up after the first bag was completed. However, they were able to crank up the delivery rate once it was the only bag running. The worst part about all of this is the fact that I had to go to the bathroom simply due to the fact that they had pumped me full of so much fluid. I thought MAYBE I could wait it out, but essentially I had to unhook the pump and wheel it into the restroom and then do my business in as careful of a manner as possible. The pumps themselves were battery-powered, so they would continue to work while unplugged, at least for a short period of time.

The next step was to hook me up to my portable party ball of poison, which would then deliver the fluorouracil (5-FU) over the next 48 hours. Because I got a later start to everything due to labs, I will go back about an hour later on Thursday to unhook things. They carefully fished the line for the take-home chemo edition through the bottom of my shirt so that I could change clothing more easily when I got home. This is not my particular pump, but showing a drained one that I found on the internet, and I then mosaiced out the information on it. Essentially, the elastic bladder around the center of the pump deflates as the medication drips into you, and overnight, mine shows a significant loss in total bulk. You have to maintain a certain elevation of the pump so that things continue to drain successfully. The biggest problem that I have personally had is trying to sleep while this is attached to me, because I am terrified that I will kink a cord, fail to maintain the height difference, or one of the cats will puncture it while they attempt to love on me. This is exacerbated by the fact that they give you some rather lengthy hazmat instructions on what to do if it gets damaged. When I got home, I played this fun new game of… is it a chemo side effect or am I just exhausted? Due to nerves, I woke up around 3 am yesterday morning and could not get to sleep. So by the time five rolled around, I was pretty freaking dead to the world. I think I went to sleep around 7:30 or at least attempted it, but given the awkward nature of the whole situation, I am not entirely certain how much sleep I actually got. I kept having to get up to pee thanks to the constant trickle of fluids into me throughout the night from the party ball. The other problem that I dealt with was the fact that the Oxaliplatin was no joke. There is a famous side effect where there is a nerve pain reaction to cold, which causes neuropathy, and the more often it triggers, the more likely you are to have it permanently. I had turned up the temperature of the house, but I had to do this again to around 75 when I got home, because picking up a metal water bottle immediately triggered this effect. So what constitutes “cold” is a really broad range of temperatures. I need to get a jug of water that I can have sitting out at room temperature that I can then fill my water bottles from, because I cannot drink tap water at the default cool temperature. I am awake, but I am honestly not sure how much longer I will be. As I said before, I did not sleep hardly at all last night, and I am not sure how much work I will actually be able to get done today. I normally sleep on my belly when I am getting good restful REM sleep, and I cannot do that while hooked to this pump. I am ultimately going to have to get used to this nonsense because I have seven more rounds of this, and there is no way in hell I am going to survive it if I have to keep going sleepless for 48 hours. A lot of my pre-game jitters were due to the fact that I did not really know what to expect. This whole ordeal is going to rapidly become rote, and that should help considerably with the whole not getting much sleep the night before thing. The hardest part at the moment is my inability to shower, but I plan on taking sponge baths today and tomorrow. I will probably wear a beanie/tuque in tomorrow when I go to get everything unhooked because my hair is already rather jacked up due to sleep and the lack of a shower. You might ask yourself… Bel, why are you sharing so much information about this process? Well, I figure it serves two purposes. The first is to document this for my own purposes, and the second is to demystify the process for anyone who might be coming along after me with colorectal cancer. There is also this negative side effect of viewing people dealing with cancer as being slightly less than the normal human beings that they are. I write through pretty much everything that I deal with, including the hard things like cancer and the death of my spouse. Seeing me writing about it, I hope makes you realize that I am still the same person I always was, that I just have a new piece of bullshit to deal with. I am really hoping that 2027 is a more chill year because the death of a spouse in 2025 and cancer in 2026 is pretty fucking awful. Right now, more than anything… I just want some damned rest. The positive is that, for the moment, there is nothing that I can really peg on chemotherapy specifically. I just have a general sense that I was run over by a truck, and feel generically awful. There was a big part of me that expected to feel like I was dying inside once the proper poison started seeping into me. If my math is correct, my low point is going to be Friday, and then after that, it will be an upward trend of recovering pretty much everything. I am hoping by Monday, I will be mostly back to normal or at least well on my way. For this exact moment, there is nothing that I am really experiencing that I cannot account for as general exhaustion and the fact that nature is having sex… and trying to destroy me with allergies. I figure that will change, and I will probably talk about it as it does. I am hoping to be able to at least take a nap today… but I might just take the second half of the day off and try to rest. This whole process sucks… but so far slightly less than I was expecting it to. The post Cancer Boy in the Chemo Cubbie appeared first on Tales of the Aggronaut.