Chemo: Cycle 2, Day 1

I goofed last time I described the Day 1 chemo (aka “Big Bad Chemo Day” according to friend, current houseguest and all-around wonderful person Katie). I don’t get three liters of liquid poured into my body during the day. It’s 4.5 liters, split about evenly between the veins and the belly. The way it breaks down is (in order): one liter saline via IV plus Taxol in 250 ml saline, half a liter of saline IP (intraperitoneally), Cisplatin in one liter of saline IP, the rest of the liter of IP saline, and finally one more liter of saline IV. The extra 250 ml saline comes from flushing the Taxol and Cisplatin lines, because really, it would be a shame to waste all that good stuff. Or something.

In case you are having trouble imagining what these volumes look like, here’s a view of the pole holding some of the bags. The Cisplatin is light-sensitive, so it is covered by the brown bag. (This also means that I become light-sensitive when it is in me, and I need to be vigilant about wearing sunscreen.)

Yes, the 2.25 liters of fluid in the belly feels uncomfortable. And also leaves me looking more pregnant than Sarah Palin did three weeks before she claims to have delivered baby Trig.

Since I’ve demonstrated no allergies to Taxol, the nurse who administers my chemo (Marissa) has been able to streamline and telescope the process. We knocked 35 minutes off of Cycle 1’s time! In at 7:45, chemo started about 8:30, and out the door at 3:45.

At the end of the day, I totaled up all the drugs that have entered my body today. Here’s the rundown:

At home (includes prescription and OTC drugs, including Tylenol and multivitamin): one injectable, one inhalant, and seven oral (Total: 9)

Before chemo: three oral anti-nausea drugs and two IV injections (prophylactic Benadryl and Pepcid) (Total: 5)

During chemo: Taxol and Cisplatin (Total: 2)

After chemo: heparin to flush the IV port and IP tube (Total: 1)

Yes, friends, that is a grand total of 17 drugs that have entered my body today. If I can’t get to sleep – and as tired as I am, some of these drugs make me feel pretty wired, so it’s a real possibility – I will take a sleeping pill and up that to 18. Properly, I should count my prescription eye drops too; that makes 19. Surely I can find one more drug to make it a nice round number…

Briefly: hair loss is slowing down, leaving me for now with a thin but nice-looking head of hair. Chemo nurse Connie says it will speed up again, and that it will start falling out in clumps. She wasn't able to predict when. And based on my experience from Cycle 1, I expect to feel pretty cruddy over the next few days, but basically getting better each day. Right now, I feel surprisingly good, aside from the belly discomfort.

UPDATE: I did take the sleeping pill and by 5:30 am I was developing a migraine. So the migraine medication took me to 20 different drugs in a 24-hour period. That's disturbing ....

Me vs. Cat (ctd)

I've pulled into the lead. Nora is enjoying this process more than I am.

Less Fluffy, but Cleaner

Hair loss is accelerating. Today I pulled two large hairballs out of the shower drain. And yet … if you hadn’t seen me in a while you might not notice much difference. I can tell that it’s thinner and shorter, but the casual observer certainly wouldn’t peg me for a chemo patient. Yet. I keep wondering which day it will be. Tomorrow? Next cycle? Time will tell.

One silver lining to the hair loss: I am cleaner than I have been at any time in the last two months, i.e. since my surgery. The easiest way to get rid of the loosening hairs is to shower, so I have had a record three days in a row of showers.

“Eeewww,” I hear you say. “Don’t you usually shower each day?” Well, yes, I used to. Like many things in my life, taking a shower is harder than it used to be. It requires waterproofing the Hickman line through which I receive my intraperitoneal chemo. This is a tube, about the diameter of IV tubing, that runs into my belly and is sutured to my skin, and then covered by a dressing. Waterproofing it can be accomplished one of two ways: with a patch of adhesive film called Tegaderm (if you’ve had an IV lately, this is the stuff that secured it in place), or by taping plastic wrap securely on all four sides. It’s tricky to position the Tegaderm, which is just slightly larger than the dressing, and the taped plastic almost always leaks. One way or another the dressing needs to be changed afterwards. So, it’s not as easy as just jumping into the shower whenever I feel like it.

Hair loss: Me vs Cat

Nora-the-cat and I had a hair-brushing party on the back porch today. So far, she's winning. I think.