Update on Chemo Part Deux

As I've been pretty sick, the timeline here on the blog is a bit messed up. I actually shaved my head on July 22nd and had my second round of chemo on July 28th, about five days ago.

Thanks to the Neupagin shots last week, my white blood cell count was nice and high this time around, and the day after chemo I was given a single shot of Neulasta to try to get my count to not "bottom out" this time around. Here's to hoping that it works.

Taking the Emend before chemo really helped, and I was able to keep food down this time around. I've still been nauseated and haven't eaten much, but it's been better. The Neulasta was pretty painful, I felt like my entire upper body was bruised for about 48 hours--sort of a switch from the "bone pain" of Neupagin, but my mom and dad were in town and took care of me, which was really helpful. I spent an entire day literally just laying in bed with my eyes closed, not even really sleeping much.

I have felt weaker this time around. Like I need about four cups of coffee. (If only my stomach could handle it!) And I have the bad acid reflux and car sickness again. It's a whole bowl of fun, really, this chemo stuff. But last time, right around day seven I felt like a new woman and I'm hoping the same will happen this time.

Yesterday I began to feel the mental pain of knowing this is a chemical inside me doing this to me, not a virus or a baby or a little flu. Then, of course, my anxiety kicked in, and I just began to feel like I wanted this stuff out of me. I was claustrophobic in my own skin and had a bit of an emotional breakdown. If I'd had access to a blood transfusion, I'm telling you, I would have hooked up the needles myself and exchanged this blood for new stuff in a heart beat. (Was that a pun?)

I detest doing this, but I'm so grateful when I realize I only have to do it four times (and I'm half done!). I can't fathom how people do this for six months or even a year on end. The very first time around, as Nurse Candy was setting up my IV, I remember seeing a frail old woman on the other side of the room wiping her tears as she sat in her chemo chair getting hooked up to her IV.

It was really hard to look at her, because I remember thinking that it probably wasn't physical pain making her cry--IVs aren't fun, but let's face it they aren't the end of the world if you've already had cancer. So I suspected it was just the emotional turmoil of sitting yourself down and submitting your body to the effects of the chemo all over again, knowing exactly what's coming after they bandage your hand and send you home, and knowing exactly how many more times you'll have to do it after that.

I felt a little guilty, with my smile, all my hair and my "I can get through this" happy attitude, across the room. I knew I was just a rookie that day, and that made all the difference.

But I am a rookie no more, and I feel her pain.

Two down. Two more to go.