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You are welcome to apply any part of this article to your own personal use. Please do NOT publish any part of the article or apply any part of it to any non-personal use without the express written concent of the author.
I'm back home after successfully going through my second cycle of chemotherapy. This one was much easier than the first cycle. In the first cycle I described having two knockdowns. On this one I was staggered for a bit, but not knocked down.
The staggering happened when I elected to have no anti-nausea medicine on Wednesday evening, because the drugs always left me drowsy and, at the very same time, a bit agitated. It's hard to describe. The best I can think of is this: wanting to go to sleep but unable to lie still for long enough for the sleep to come, with the sleep winning out. The next morning I woke feeling quite conscious, but my stomach rebelled with the lack of anti-nausea medication. My first drink caused a "backflush" (I didn't want to say anything unpleasant here - someone may be reading this while eating), as did anything else I attempted to eat or drink. It took several hours before the anti-nausea drugs took effect. And when they did I went directly into that semi-conscious mode of just wanting to sleep.
Some patients elect to sleep through their entire infusion cycle. That's a position I can understand now, being on this side of the process. It's not a happy choice for me, though. I need to find some medium place where I can remain conscious, yet have enough anti-nausea juice in me to get that job done.
So, where am I now and how am I feeling? Compared to Cycle #1, this one was a breeze. I've already been back aboard Volant for nearly 24 hours, considerably longer than the 2 hours back aboard following Cycle #1. Plus, I'm feeling better right now than I was when I returned after the rehospitalization following Cycle #1. We learned enough about how my body responds to this particular chemo-soup that I feel we can easily control the nausea, which the experience of these past hours has confirmed.
My concern is now for the upcoming Nadir Days, and wondering whether my neutrophil count will dive so low as to require hospitalization again. I do have a shot scheduled for today at noon to boost my white blood (including neutrophil) counts, but it takes a few days for the effects to show up in the counts.
During this Cycle I did manage to talk to another "inmate" who's on the same soup for the same diagnosis. I'll call him "John." John is in Cycle #5. In his experience his Nadir Days between Cycles #2 and #3 were the worst, requiring blood transfusions due to a very low red blood count. His white blood counts went low, but not nearly as low as mine have gone. Almost as bad were the Nadir Days between cycles #3 and #4. John's red blood counts were low, but not requiring nearly as much blood to bring them up. While he went neutropenic from his low neutrophil count, those times were coincidental with his low red blood counts, so his neutropenia was managed during his stays for the blood transfusions. John apparently did not need transfusions to bring up his neutrophil count.
What can I surmise from his experience and others with whom I've talked? I've learned that each infusion cycle experience is unique and unpredictable. How one goes through one cycle has no bearing on how one goes through the next. There's no guarantee that if one's white blood counts plunge after one cycle, it will also plunge following the next cycle. The best we can hope for is to be vigilant and catch any adverse conditions as early as possible, as they all have a treatment.
How that applies to me right now is that things are under control. If, and that's a big "if," I go neutropenic, I've already gone through the treatment and it's not a big deal for me to handle it. I might get the mouth sores again, but with the "magic mouthwash" that I've been given it should never get anywhere close to how bad it was in my first Nadir Days.
My biggest concern right now is for keeping up my fluid intake. Last time I couldn't get enough Popsicles. This time the flavor is just not appealing - sort of like the licking the flavored water off a cast iron plate. And the fruit juice and sport drinks are much the same. Bummers!
On the opposite side of the coin I had some really bright moments. My daughter Sara and her daughter Zadra came in for a visit at a time when I was up to it (apologies to those who wanted to visit at a time when I was struggling to stay conscious). Seven-year-old Zadie came in, never having seen my bald head and the tubes running into my chest, climbed up on my bed next to me and read me a story from one of her books. As much as Sara's presence always brightens my day, Zadie's was a whole sunshine in itself.
On a slightly different subject I met with my oncology team before going into the hospital. The team is scheduling a CT Scan (pronounced: CAT skan) of my lungs for June 30. That's when we will see whether this protocol is having an effect, if any at all, on the nodules. If they go down in size or disappear, we're all getting our job done famously. If they appear to be the same in the scans, there could be either a limiting effect or the chemo is doing the job but just slower. In either of these first situations we'll continue the current protocol. If the third possibility shows up, larger nodules and/or more nodules, we'll try a different protocol. Personally I'm gunning for the first of these possibilities and ask that you all join in with your intentions and prayers in alignment with mine. Check in on June 30 or shortly thereafter. I should have something posted here almost as fast as I know.
But for now bring on those Nadir Days anyway. I'm ready and waiting, and I intend to go through them with spinnaker flying!
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