This isn’t to say chemo hasn’t been without its challenges. The first challenge was finding a vein to infuse into. Two nurses tried four times before having success. I also had a scary reaction during the infusion and had to be given oxygen, but was able to eventually complete the treatment. The nurses said reactions like this sometimes happen when the body is first exposed to the drug, and it’s less likely to occur in future treatments.
Yesterday was my weekly follow-up appointment. We talked about various side effects such as digestive issues, being easily winded, and general malaise. I learned a new word, phlebitis, after showing off the shocking pink and swollen back of my hand where the infusion was done. Everybody in the oncology office had to see it. The was some disagreement about how rare this is with my particular drug, but no real panic. In general all signs are that I’m tolerating the treatment well, and with a few tweaks the next cycle should go better.
The oncologist is very happy with my PSA numbers, even though he can’t take any credit yet. I mentioned that such a dramatic drop seems to be exceedingly rare, based on the personal stories I’ve been reading on an online advanced prostate cancer forum. He suggested not to think too much about it, and just be happy with the result. Very good advice I’ll try to follow.
After my appointment I stopped by the office where I work for a visit. I went on a sudden and unexpected medical leave right at the time of my diagnosis. The original plan was to take a week or so off while getting diagnosed with an inflamed prostate and waiting for the antibiotics to work. Suffice to say that plan changed rather suddenly.
It felt awesome going to the office and talking with the people I work with. Everybody is very supportive and interested in my condition. Somebody even went so far as to decorate my office for the holidays.
On my good days I find myself starting to look forward to returning to work. Then I remember that today’s blood draw had virtually no white blood cells, and avoiding the bugs that seem to go around in office environments is probably a good thing for the time being. Catching a routine cold during chemo can be very dangerous, as the infection can spread much further than usual before the weakened immune system is able to respond.
I also still have many bad days and bad moments. A bad moment is when I’m getting dressed and need to stop and rest to catch my breath. Another bad moment is when acid reflux gets so bad I can only sit on the couch and whimper. Yet another is when the pain flares and it gets very uncomfortable to even sit. A bad day will have multiple bad moments, and a general theme of fatigue and malaise.
But these bad moments and days are becoming fewer. I can see progress in how much pain relief I’m taking and when. I used to wake up in the middle of the night in pain, and need to take something to get back to sleep. That evolved to sleeping through the night, but needing to take something first thing in the morning. This week I haven’t been taking anything except coffee or tea when I first wake up. Progress! And of course the oncologist is very pleased with this as well.
On a parting note, while I still have my hair, it normally takes about two weeks before hair loss starts to occur. That means there’s still a few more days to go before the ponytail death watch needs to begin. At this point I’m optimistic I might keep my hair, but most people do lose at least some.
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