Chemo: Round 2

Part of the big news of the week was getting through the second round of chemotherapy on January 3.  Quite the way to ring in the new year, but at least I got through Christmas and then New Year's Eve feeling mostly myself.  So on January 2, I met with my doctor for the pre-chemo blood test, which they perform most of right there while I'm waiting to see the doctor, who then reported that my numbers are all good and that my body is responding well to the chemo.  He remains upbeat and positive that this is all curative and that we're going to get it all, given that it's very localized and caught very early with only one node in my armpit clearly glowing in in the PET scan.  Dr. Barnett spent quite a bit of time with me, again letting me ask questions and clarify concerns then checking my lungs and heart.  Given that I've responded relatively well, Dr. Barnett said that each round will likely go the same way with the exception of the fatigue being cumulative as well as the beating my immune system is taking.

So then the chemo was the next day with most of the original anxieties gone (what the heck is it exactly?) and some whole new ones (will I react to the rituxan, and what about those hiccups?).  We got there

"Pole" Dameron and BB-8!

bright and early and were sent back, and I was greeted by the nurses, and then I sat.  Apparently, my nurse was one who rotates through the different Rocky Mountain Cancer Centers, and so she didn't recognize me, so I sat for almost 30 minutes before she finally called my name.  So next time, I'll sign in even if I'm greeted.

Because of my initial reactions to the rituxan, I was started with an IV bag of Benadryl.  Honestly, I feel badly for Rebekah because I basically faded in and out of consciousness for the next three hours.  On the bright side, I didn't react to the rituxan, though it was still almost 7 hours to get it done. I did have my fellow warriors to help me through the day: "Pole" Dameron and BB-8, and I spent my time with my earphones listening to a book in audio to relax.  When it was time for the doxorubicin (somehow the "H" of R-CHOP and lovingly nicknamed "the red devil"), the nurse got it ready as a push into the port, but she didn't give me my popsicle to suck on while it goes in, so Rebekah got it (ended up with two of them for that much of the stuff)...the doxorubicin can get into your mouth through the pores and cause sores, so the popsicle is used to constrict the pores to protect your gums and cheeks.  I had two of the push injectors for the doxorubicin, which has to be given at a specific rate.  Did I mention that I got two popsicles?

I know of someone who had to remain connected to their port at home for additional days during their treatment, and I was thinking that because I get to go home disconnected from it while the port sits benignly in my chest for the next two weeks, that I wasn't doing chemo at home.  Until I thought about the fact that the 100mg of prednisone a day for five days is the "P" of R-CHOP, so I do continue my chemo treatment as pills for five days.  And it's probably my least favorite part.  By the last day, I feel like a hummingbird on speed, my body actually feeling like it's vibrating, my hands shaking.  Prednisone is a natural anti-lymphocyte, but it also packs quite a wallop at those levels, which leaves me wanting to fight one minute then cry the next.  I think it also contributed to the less than four hours of sleep I got last night.  It didn't help that I suddenly realized in the night that it had been two months since my initial surgery that started all this.  But I'm really growing to hate the prednisone.

And those hiccups.  Yeah, they came on.  They were never as gut-wrenching this time since I had the medicine ready to go, but they were always right there on the edge, threatening to drill into my sanity again.  I was very careful with my medicines this time, so no falling incidents in the middle of the night, but I did have to get up in the night and take the meds in order to soothe them before they got out of control again.  So over the 36-48 hours, I did keep the nasty things at bay, but just barely.

Tomorrow marks the "crash" from the prednisone, so at the least the mood swings will be over, but I'm not sure if I'll have much energy to do much.  We'll see.  I need to get up and be more active as it's starting to really weigh on me how inactive I've been through the holidays and the wind and cold.  But that has to change because I don't want my muscle mass to be another thing battle won by all of this.  The fatigue and chemo will not win this one.

Now, for some reason, I've been inclined to monitor through selfies the chemo-induced alopecia as it's set in and taken my hair, first in clumps and now in continued thinning on my head that never grows (that's as long as it's gotten since I shaved it after Christmas).  I wear a lot of hats, partly out of self-consciousness and partly because my head is actually cold at times.  According to all the experts, it will grow back.  Possibly a different color.  Possibly curly.  But it will remain basically gone until after the chemo is done.  I still wash my head with baby shampoo then put cream on my poor scalp.  I also haven't shaved my face since Christmas Eve.  The hair on my arms and legs is starting to thin at this point as well.

December 30:

December 31:

January 7: