Chemo Day Three

I am officially 1/4 of the way done with chemo!  When I look back to August 12th, I can't believe a. how much I've learned about breast cancer and its treatment and b. how fast this time went.  I have an entire new vocabulary and brain trust of information.  I've even flipped to the 'other side'; I received a text from a friend who knows someone recently diagnosed.  "Can I have her call you for recommendations?"  That was me asking that question, as recently as 4 short weeks ago.

How was today?  It was a little bumpy to be honest.  Got off to a good start - walked a few miles around my neighborhood since I had a later start time.  Showered, changed into new chemo outfit, and headed to MGH.

The order of events on a non-THP day (only T today) - 1. They set up access to the port.  Back to waiting room. 2. My vital signs are taken.  Either back to waiting room or straight to infusion room 3. Back to the infusion room. 

I was taken back to access the port right on time.  First bump in the road (and maybe the only bump but it was a big one): I didn't apply the lidocaine properly to numb the port area so I FELT. EVERYTHING.  I do not enjoy this whole port thing in the first place - it's really werid having an 'outlet' in your chest for needles.  The tubing from the port runs up to an artery in my neck and I can SEE IT under my skin, over my collarbone.  (Totally giving my self 'weak ass' as I type this - my cold-capping-goddess (CCG) said this today and it is 100% on the money.  Feels like my intestines are weak.)

My port access nurse was nice, and we both realized that the lidocaine didn't really do its job as I felt A LOT as she plugged in the access tubing.  She recommended that when I apply it in the morning (1 hour prior to arrival), really goop it on top of the port outlet and cover with Glad Cling Wrap, rather than the covers given to me from the hospital - "those spread out the lotion over a bigger site" she said.  Good tip.  Off to get Cling Wrap this week.

But back in the waiting room, my port area "burned" and the fact that I felt it gave me "weak ass".  My husband and freshly arrived CCG tried distracting me with funny conversations but I was a little salty inside about feeling the port.  

Off to Infusion room 3 (someone was already in Infusion room 4), which was just as nice with the private bathroom and nice seating. And happily, my same infusion nurse was there!  Phew.  She's the best.  

CCG and I went to do our cold cap prep - wet and slick back hair, put conditioner on the slicked back hair, apply cut panty liner to forehead to protect skin, pop on the blue liquid cap, wrestle with the 1920s football helmet and its bungee cords.  And again, we nail it!  It's tight on my head with no gapping.  She is truly gifted at this and Paxman needs to hire her.  Paxman?  Are you listening?  Hire her to wander infusion departments, helping patients cold cap!  Sharing a pic - my face looks distorted because the chin strap is on super tight.  But this is the 'look', panty liner and all.

My infusion nurse tells me that the port looks great and starts the premeds in the IV.  And then we turn on the cold capping machine.  I try to chat with John and CCG for a few minutes but at 2 minutes in, I have to focus on breathing and tune out the world - cold cap play list on.  Both of them each hold one of my hands and it's manageable.  I ride the waves - I have observed that there is a moment at the end of those 15 minutes where a wave of cold freezes across my head and then I immediately start to feel better.  It's like the scene in the movie "The Day after Tomorrow" - when the ice age is coming and the temperature drops suddenly; the New York Public library freezes, chasing the main characters into their fire-placed, hideout room.  The ice climbs the doors but they are safe.  I had that scene in my head as I felt this today; I looked at my timer and 14 minutes had passed. My scalp is frozen - onto chemo.

Within 15 minutes, I nap HARD. The lunch lady comes by and I ask for a few things (lentil soup was delicious) and back to nap.   CCG gives a hug and heads out for her day.  (Thank you so damn much!)  Infusion and cold capping ends around 2:15, and I nap in the car on the way home and dive straight into bed for 3 more hours.  

Believe it or not, I'm still tired.  Another friend dropped off 5 to 7 days of food and magazines and books (thank you!) and I've eaten and am ready to sleep again.  Hoping to feel good tomorrow morning and hit my 5:30 workout!  Thank you for all of your support.  Warms my heart when I receive messages referring to things you've read here. I hope it's helpful keeping you in the loop as much as this writing is helping me.  One day, I promise I won't talk about cold capping anymore.  xo J

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

April Oncology Visit and Onward

The oncology visit last week went well as one can.  The pain under my left armpit is, tah dah!, from radiation!  Turns out my muscles under there are working like shoelaces now rather than rubber bands.  Thank you scar tissue.  Is it any wonder my mobility is reduced?  Still need to schedule PT for this but at least there's an answer. With regard to the A1C, I'm to ignore that result for now.  It's a 3 month look back, and guess who still had chemo running through her then?  Me.  I will reschedule the test for 3-6 months out and then we'll get serious about it if we need to be. The only shit news, and I appreciate the candor and honesty, is that there is NOTHING to do for my head hair.  It's still shedding, 17 weeks PFC, and it sucks.  I have a tiny bit of growth but it's random short hairs here and there.  I'm still treating it like lace and I am itching to REALLY wash it (scrub my scalp), blow dry it on full heat, and take a ...
Read more

Post Paris and Pre Infusion

Paris was, as you might imagine, heaven.  Bliss.  Totally grateful to have had the opportunity to travel with LDLF.  6 days of joy.  And back to reality.   Last week, I had an oncology massage at MGH.  It's in the same building as my radiation treatments but not in the basement.  Didn't matter.  I walked through the door and physically swayed from dizziness.  The PTSD is strong with me.  Went to the waiting room and again, was the youngest person there.  Spied the infusion rooms, gave another shudder, and after a little wait, headed back to meet my new BFF, the massage therapist.   When I think 'massage', I think 'spa'.  Nope.  An exam room in which you get a 'massage'.  However, it's not a normal massage AT ALL.  Instead, she worked to loosen the muscles which have shrunk: "Like if you put a chicken breast in the microwave, it shrinks.  That's what has happened to your shoulder and pec muscles."  ...
Read more

The Hill I'm Willing to Die on...

Flash back to October 2, 2024.  I'm getting my port in.  I'm on the surgical floor of MGH West in Waltham.  I am sedated, a medical professional makes 2 incisions, one where the port is placed in my right chest area and one where a tube is inserted into a vein in my neck.  You can see the tube over my collarbone.  It's been very effective, even though I hate it.  It's a constant reminder.   Flash back to yesterday.  I receive a call from Interventional Radiology to schedule my port removal.  I know from prior conversations with my medical oncologist that this procedure is done WHILE THE PATIENT IS AWAKE, WITH JUST LOCAL NUMBING AGENTS.  WTF?  No thank you.  The nurse explains that again yesterday and I say 'no'.  Nope.  You sedated me to put it in, and you will sedate me to take it out.  I will throw up if I feel anyone cut into me, or any tugging or pulling while it's being taken out.  I'm pretty ...
Read more