Hooked for for infusion one of six.
I met with my hemo-oncologist, Marjorie Bernstein-Singer, for the first time. She’s a lively, warm women who seems fast on her feet. Good thing, because I’ve been champing at the bit to get started with chemotherapy. Dr. Bernstein-Singer may just prove to be one of those good things that come to those who wait.
She took me through the drugs they’d be giving me (PACLitaxel and CARBOplatin, along with benadryl, pepcid, decadron and a little saline solution). 15 minutes into my visit, I was already set up with my appointments on my day and time of choice: Fridays at 9am after my daily radiation treatment.
Then Joan and I were given a tour of the oncology infusion area and introduced to my RN, a down-to-earth lady named Yvonne Allen with a nice, dry sense of humor.
After a little wait, Yvonne got me settled into my infusion station. Most stations include a big easy chair, plenty of warm blankets, chairs for visitors and a TV.
Oh yeh…I forgot to mention…my first chemo treatment was TODAY. Now that’s what I’m talking about!
Today they used a standard IV setup. I’ll have a PICC Line (peripherally inserted catheter) installed next week before my next chemotherapy. This will save wear and tear on my poor little collapsible veins.
Yvonne briefed me on the drugs I’d be receiving, their possible side effects, and dietary recommendations. After being given pills to combat the nausea that is a side effect of these particular drugs, I was given decadron, benadryl via IV, then PEPCID. Finally, they ran carboplatin into my veins. The process so far had taken about 2 hours. After that bag was finished, they switched the IV to the paclitaxel bag. I was left feeling pleasantly drifty…and slightly odd. Oh…maybe I was already slightly odd.
Joan and I left the oncology department around 4:30pm. It’s been a long, but productive, day at Kaiser (I arrived this morning 8 am radiation). At last we’re fighting those nasty little cancer cells swimming around in my thoracic cavity. The chemo works in tandem with the radiation, as these drugs make my cells more vulnerable to the radiation. While I don’t yet feel the 2 tumors in my right lung shrinking just yet, I’m satisfied we’re on the right road.
Now all I have to do is show up and keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Dear sister, you are showing up big time!
I hope Orion and Company are zapping those little swimmers as I write these words! (What sort of video games come to mind?)
I’m very glad that you have so much support and Joan by your side. Enjoy the race track tomorrow.
love from your little sister.
Glad to read you are on schedule with your treatment.
I just came across you blog ’cause I was looking for info regarding my recent mediastinoscopy. I will check back to see how you’re doing and to let you know what the results of my test are.
When you come to the edge of all the light you have, and must take a step into the darkness of the unknown, believe that one of two things will happen to you: either there will be something solid for you to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly.
onward…the journey of a thousand miles, etc…Photo reportage is pretty interesting. I’ll spare you photos of MY latest attempt to become a greasy spot on the pavement–one week ago on my bike, an “incursion” with an Arrowhead water truck. I went down hard, but not hard enough to do permanent damage. X-rays, etc. show nothing done, and no brain damage, since there isn’t enough to work with. we’re all just inches away from IT, no? Leo has a funny post onlilne, hope you saw it. If not, I’ll forward. HUgs, Stay cheery & keep up the can-do attitude. It’ll work!!! JC
Love that picture of you; have printed it out and keep it as a reminder of what you’re attacking on a daily basis….onward…
Dear Joyce,keep up the good attitude and just remember every day is the possibility of a miracle. Lovingly,Jackie