Chemo Day Six - Halfway Through

Home from my 6th chemo treatment. I am officially half way through chemo!  Actually, more than half way - I only have 5 treatments left as I will not be making up the skipped Thanksgiving week treatment.  And honestly, that break is coming at a good time.

It was a weird day, with an early afternoon start time.  I usually start in the morning and leave in the afternoon.  The office was very quick this afternoon - I hadn't even sat down in the waiting room when they called me to come back for vitals.  And then the vitals nurse sent me over to the port access nurse for access and blood draw.

I've been in a mood this week, from the 'burning from the inside out' experience on Monday to 'I don't want to do this anymore' yesterday and today.  The port access nurse was new to me today.  She asked 'how are you?' as she set up and I think I replied 'meh'.  She checked my online files.  'Yep', she said, 'you're in the middle and it sucks right now.'  She was right.  Rather than being excited about getting to the half way mark, I've been 'meh'.  I'm not excited about treatments anymore and I'm dreading what side effect will hit me next.  The port access nurse assured me this is totally normal, that everyone is bummed out in the middle of their treatments.  

I needed that.  I needed someone with her experience to tell me it's okay to be 'meh' and simply grinding through the process at this point.  She tells me that I'll get excited again as the end approaches.  If all goes well, my last chemo is on Christmas Eve.

After she does her blood draw, I try to head back the waiting room but one of the infusion nurses calls my name to take me into infusion.  I quickly gather my husband and bags and off we go...past infusion rooms 3 and 4...onto infusion room 20?!  With a window?  And no private bathroom?  It's smaller than my usual rooms and shares a bathroom in the main hallway with many other rooms.  This bums me out.  In the end, we find it's a function of where my infusion nurse (who IS assigned to me) is stationed that day.  I 'joke' with her that I miss the rooms we had - I prefer the 'cave-like' darkness you can achieve in those rooms, I LOVE the private bathroom, and it's a much quieter space.

My husband and I discuss what more we can do to avoid the 'burning from the inside out' episodes with the infusion nurse.  She too is baffled and has never seen anything like this.  Per my oncologist, we increase the level of dexamethasone back to the original level.  We debate raising the level of Benadryl as well, but that wears off in a day and these events are happening 5 days after chemo, so we leave it at the reduced dosage.

Cold Capping Goddess (CCG) arrives, hugs, and we wait for my blood work to see if I'm stable enough for chemo.  My infusion nurse gives me the thumbs up and we start cold capping.  I almost make it through initial 15 minutes talking with my husband and CCG; at 13 minutes, I take a moment as my scalp freezes hard and then I'm good to go.  This was definitely my "PR" for time spent talking during the initial cold cap freeze.  I'm pretty proud of myself.  A friend told me to 'lean into the pain' and that mind shift helped immensely.  

The Taxol drip started and I hugged CCG goodbye.  Thank you so so much.  My husband and I settled in for the next 2 hours.  I had some crackers, a protein bar, tea and water.  Nodded off for a little but wasn't leaden like I was for treatment 1 to 4.

I hope to sleep well later - we will see.  It's going to be a test of wills between Ativan (sleep) and Dexamethasone (awake).  May the former win.  Thank you for caring to read and keep up.  xo J