Thanks
@Half Fast, for checking in!
I'm just over halfway through the chemo regimen... 14 weeks down and 13 to go. Still alive and plodding through.
Every Thursday (except for weeks off), I go to an infusion center at the hospital. It's a big room with panoramic windows with a quite astounding view of the city and the mountains. There are about 10 recliner chairs sparsely spaced around the edges of the room next to the windows. Because of COVID, loved ones aren't allowed in to hang out with you (or to even come into the building). I do sometimes see other patients who are "regulars", but in general the patients don't talk to each other, I think because we all try to maintain an illusion of privacy for each other in this big room without any.
It's taken me many weeks, but I finally know the multisyllabic names of all four of the big drugs that I'm on. Week One of each cycle, I get all four of them -- I call this "the Full Chumbawumba" (a whiskey drink, a vodka drink, a lager drink, and a cider drink). I'll be in there for about six hours. In Week Two, I get just one of the big drugs -- the nastiest one, which is called "Taxol" for short. That visit is only two or three hours. Since this stuff can cause neuropathy in the extremities, I bring a cooler of ice with me to each infusion session so that I can have my fingers and toes chilled during the Taxol Hour; supposedly this shrinks the capillaries and helps prevent neuropathy. Taxol Hour is preceded by several anti-nausea pre-drugs, as well as Benadryl, whose woozy effects I'll be feeling for the rest of the day. Everything is delivered via my "Mediport" (I call it the "keg tap") which is a little device installed near my shoulderblade that feeds easily into a vein.
Some of the side effects of chemo have words (like "queasiness" or "diarrhea" or "fatigue") but some are things that there aren't medical terms for, such as "the feeling that the skin you're wearing is the wrong size" or "sensitive to touch, as if you have a bruise, only everywhere". Most of the time, the main side effect is what I call "half speed". Just everything slow. Body and mind. All in all, it is bearable. Week Three is a week off to recover, and during those weeks I feel more or less like myself again.
One of the worst side effects is hot flashes. They appear because my tumor feeds on estrogen, so I'm also on an estrogen-blocker, effectively inducing menopause early. Now, let me say, if you have a Woman Of A Certain Age in your life who is going through this, be kind to her. Hot flashes are mis. er. a. ble. It's not like just sweating on a hot day -- it's (again) the feeling that your body's basic internal functioning has gone bonkers.
When I asked the doc's about the hot flashes, I was told that I could consider taking one of a couple of anti-anxiety medications (Effexor or Gabapentin), which some studies show helps a little. I immediately thought of my future medical, and having to explain that to the FAA. Politely declined. I guess I'll just endure the hot flashes.
The hair thing... being the most outwardly-obvious side effect of chemo, it's the one people find easiest to have conversations about. (Certainly it makes better conversation than gastrointestinal distress!) However, I assure you all that losing my hair is the side-effect that has had the least impact on my life. No wigs or nuthin. Just wear it. This being Alaska, I wouldn't go outside without a warm hat anyway. The hair hasn't 100% gone, but it is just very very thin, so I just keep the head shaved. Paul acts as my own local baldness and scalp care advisor, and seems to enjoy having a partner in pate. I do miss my eyebrows a little; their absence is eerie.
I'm on partial medical leave at the university, so still teaching and doing research, but not carrying a full load. A good balance, I think.
A couple weeks ago, we both got Pfizer shot number one, due to a timely "end of the day, and we don't want to waste any doses" take-all-comers type of situation. It was super-uplifting in a way that I wasn't expecting. Gave us both a positive outlook on the future. Number two next week.
No flying since October.
