Two Weeks of the life of a Stage Four Rectal Cancer Patient in Chemotherapy Treatment--Day Two

Day Two

I like my doctor, but I still show up fifteen minutes late to my appointment with lidocaine lotion on my port to numb it up before it gets "accessed" for chemo. It's not exactly comfortable to have a piece of plastic wrap covering a little lotion on your sort-of shoulder.

I had kidney pain last chemo, and my doctor tells me my urinalysis came back as contaminated due to my open wound, so there's not much to know there. There won't be much to know there probably until the end of this. I curse my open wound in my head.

My lab results from Friday show that my "tumor markers" are still going down, so that means another round of chemo without oxaliplatin (my nemesis), and I'm doing a happy dance in my mind. I sound a little too excited when I exclaim, "yeah! That's great!" when the doctor says he's fine skipping it again. That drug is the cause of most of my worst chemo symptoms including neuropathy (loss of feeling in fingers and toes--a problem with both chemos I'm on, actually), first bite syndrome (where the first few bites of anything hurts my jaw--no matter how soft), cold sensitivity (to the point where I feel like I have little pins in my hands, feet, face, and throat; even my chest on windy days--which is every day here. I mean, I do live in Wyoming), and extreme fatigue and nausea.

Because I'm only doing the one chemo (which is still no joke...it's tough stuff), I'm not at oncology long--which is also nice--however, chemo infusion day has become my social hours during the week. When taking oxaliplatin, I'm there five hours. With only the 5-FU (the other chemo), I'm there maybe two, and everyone there is interesting to talk to.

I love the nurses who work at my oncology center. They always greet me with a smile and they're very helpful. I always tell them I hate coming to the oncology center, but I like them.

I usually feel okay until about a half hour after leaving the building. Then I'm tired, but wired due to the steroids they have me on. Hubby and I eat lunch while I'm still feeling okay.

My mother-in-law takes the kids to their activities and volunteers to have the at her house on chemo days. I always agree to it knowing they'll have more fun there and also because I want to do my class and scripture study uninterrupted. I'm always grateful for her help because it makes chemo day so much easier. Hubby always picks them up after he is done with work, so I don't spend the entire day without them.

I have a standing girls' night on infusion day as well, but I also have a small house, so I try to limit the number of people I invite over. This week it was one really good friend only who could make it because everyone else was either busy or sick, or was taking care of someone sick; so I eventually just stopped asking more people when I started falling half asleep. The girls night was still fun and worth it. I'm so glad she came. It gets my mind off "Frodo's" annoying noises (Frodo is the name we dubbed the chemo pump I take home because he comes and "visits" Bilbo) from my backpack. The noise is a little hard to explain. It's very high-pitched, and when I don't put it in my backpack it keeps me up at night.

The chemo backpack that muffles Frodo that I carry around.

"Frodo"

Me on chemo day.