Another chemo day today - lucky number 7. As usually, I am an insomniac tonight thanks to the whopping dose of steroid I get as one of my pre-chemo drugs - so I thought I would take this opportunity while the rest of my family sleeps peacefully to update the blog.
As many of you know, I am scared of my port. I have a deep yet unfounded mistrust of the thing. And I just think it is gross. So anyway, for the last two chemos, they have been having some problems with my port not drawing blood. It flushes fine, but getting blood out had been proving tricky. During chemo #6 it stopped "drawing" at a critical time when the nurse was giving my Adriamycin and they have to draw back blood just to check that the needle and port are all in the right place so the chemo goes in my vein and not into my skin. The horrors of displaced Adriamycin were kindly dished out in great detail by a very enthusiastic new nurse during my initial chemo - so I always get a little (irrationally) nervous during this medication. Then during Chemo #6 I see my nurse messing around with my line and then "huh - it won't draw.." PANIC!!!! (deep breath) AHHHH! (deep breath) .... After several flushes the port cooperated for the rest of the treatment.
Today I went in to get my labs drawn and the port will not draw. Not one tiny drop. My nurse is flushing the line and having me assume various yoga poses like "lay right side down in this hospital recliner" and "stand with hands above head and cough" and my favorite "turn head to left, right arm up and deep breath". This resulted in no change. PANIC!!!! (deep breath) AHHHHH! :)
But the answer was simple - I just needed a medicine called alteplase (TPA) to help dissolve any fibrin/clot deposits in my line. My dad put it best - "Like Drano?" Yes.
After an hour my port was back to good as new! Hooray! The funny part of this is that as a resident, I ordered TPA for kid's lines at the hospital fairly frequently - I would spend exactly 15 seconds thinking about someone else's port not flushing, order the TPA and move on. When it is my port, I worry. This is yet another little lesson I hope to bring back with me to the hospital when I get to sit on the rolling chair again - even little things are a big deal when they are happening to you.
So, the port is working and chemo went really smoothly. I brought my book on meditation and read US weekly. Judge me all you want people. My nurse was funny today - and while I liked that she told me she was ready for a drink at 10:30 this AM I'm not sure that really falls under the purview of professional conduct. (note to self: stop telling kids I wish I was wasted when I go back to work - doesn't sound as cool as I thought) I'd like to give a little credit where credit is due to all the nurses out there. When my chemo nurse walks in each treatment I hold me breath and hope she will be great. My nurse two weeks ago was not great and it made the day drag on (literally) and was a much less pleasant experience. Today, my nurse was friendly and efficient. She made me aware of the plan and schedule without being overbearing. She did not seem annoyed to be there (despite the aforementioned alcohol comment). I am lucky to work with a great group of nurses at work and I hope they know how much their attitudes and communication styles shape our patients' experience.
My mom has been taking me to chemo the last few treatments and it has been really nice. I feel like we don't get many chances to talk face to face without a certain 5 year old and 1 year old running interference. We haven's solved ALL of the worlds problems yet, but we still have one more chemo to go. Today when I was getting checked in, we noticed a woman in her 70s getting checked in for chemo by herself. I overheard her saying that she had done chemo for colon cancer 3 years ago and now it was back; this was her first chemo since her relapse. And she was all alone!! So here is my public service announcement - if you know anyone that it getting chemotherapy ask who is going with them. Not just dropping off/picking up - but who is going with them. If the answer is no one - you should volunteer for a session. I find it so comforting to have someone else in my little 6x7foot cubby. My mom and I chat, eat and make fun of people - and those are all my favorite things. John always does some calisthenics involving deep lunges which make me laugh. More importantly, I get someone on my team. To worry about my port, to tell me to relax, to say its all going to be ok. It is boring, and the visitor chair honestly doesn't look terribly comfortable - but still you should go!
I meet with the radiation oncologist next week to make the plans for my radiation treatment. I am very interested in what he has to say and what all is involved - because I was apparently asleep during this day of medical school. My distaste for for physics, social isolation and the dark has always made the field of radiology seem vastly boring and over my head at the same time. I'm looking forward to getting more information so I can stop saying really dumb things like "i guess they will shoot me with some, like, beam-thing...???"
June 6th is the final chemo - hooray! Still have to get to feeling better from Chemo 7, so I haven't started the official count down yet. But the end is definitely in sight - and that is a very good feeling.
