Left: Graham sat in that rigid, uncomfortable chair while my chemo dripped from 9:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. Poor guy!Below: Chemo dripping into my port (white patch on my chest).
Friday morning (the 13th—appropriate) Graham drove me to Dr. Gaeke's office for my first chemo treatment. After a short wait, Kim, a nurse at the office, took us back to room #5—a small room with a recliner, TV, a few small tables and two chairs.
Graham unpacked our bag full of books, magazines, movies. (He's really trying to get me to watch the original Star Wars trilogy, and now that I was being held captive for hours, he figured it'd be prime time.) I sat back in the recliner and they accessed my port, first letting bags of saline, benadryl, and a test run of chemo drip to make sure I didn't have an allregic reaction. By about 11, it was time for the real chemo to begin. Kim came in and changed the bags that hung from the pole, pushed some buttons on the machine, then left. Graham and I sat and waited. We read. We watched TV. I slept. Boredom was all we had to overcome that day. All was over by 6:00, and we left the office around 6:30. Quite a day.
I spent the rest of the night wondering how my body would react. Waiting for something to happen. I woke up Saturday and felt great. Graham and I went to a garage sale. Went to Ikea. Out to lunch. I felt fantastic. Wonderful, I thought.
I woke up Sunday, though, in severe pain. Like my body was filled with fireflies, each exploding with pain. Shoulder. Knee. Elbow. Unbearable. And my mouth began to get raw. I took a drink of orange juice and realized this the hard way. The chemo is killing rapidly reproducing cells, and the lining of my mouth and gut can't be spared. Heartburn has begun, too.
I tried to go to work on Monday, but had to leave at noon. I stayed home Tuesday. Tried again today to go to work, and had to leave at noon. The pain makes it difficult to focus on anything but the little explosions I feel.
Please pray I get over this, that each chemo treatment won't leave me in so much pain. This will be a long three months, I'm afraid.
Love you all,
Tara
4 comments:
Did you say Ikea? So does the chemo make you crazy? Ha!
In all seriousness, hope you're feeling better. Love ya and praying for you. Let me know if you need ANYTHING!
Hi Tara...just found your blog. You are just about at the same treatment I was at about one year ago. Scary times; but they DO get better!
I am one of those people who has to know all about things like this, so I actually made a web page to make it easier for others to learn about Hodgkin's Disease.
http://www.drotterholt.com/hodgkins.html
I hope it helps you. Often the unknown is worse than knowing.
Good luck with your treatment!
Randy
Remember what I said... You are definitely in our thoughts and prayers!
Rianna
Hi Tara,
We've all been keeping up with your blog at Cumberland Swan...err..I mean, Vi-Jon. That whole thing is still kinda surreal to most of us. Graham would be going insane if he were still here. Anyway, we are praying for you.
On another note, I have a bit of sad news....the griddle has moved on to the big kitchen in the sky. It had a good run...made lots of pancakes, sausage, cajun chicken, grilled cheese & burgers. One of the kids knocked it off the counter and broke it...I almost cried man...I loved that thing.
But I digress...Hang in there girl. You are a very strong-spirited person, so I know you'll be fine. I miss ya'll being in TN, but I'm glad ya'll were able to move and be closer to family. Tell Graham I said Hey...and ya'll take care.
Jerry
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