Second chemo treatment

I had my second chemo treatment yesterday. From the time we arrived until the time we left was 7.5 hours, and I thought you might find a description of the process interesting.

Joanie was scheduled for an immunotherapy infusion for her breast cancer yesterday also, so we drove in separate cars. After checking in, we went into the infusion room, a large room with a lot of huge, comfy recliners well separated from each other. I grabbed some crackers and peanut butter and some chocolate Ensure from the snack area, and we settled into a couple of the recliners.

A nurse drew some blood and then ushered us out of the infusion room and into one of my oncologist’s exam rooms. A short while later my oncologist joined us. She said my labs looked great and she wanted to add an immunotherapy drug to the two chemo drugs.

We went back to the infusion room and settled into our recliners. Joanie had brought some crackers, cheese, and summer sausage left over after Sunday’s Super Bowl, so we feasted on that.

A short while later, one of the nurses began the series of infusions using my port.

(Joanie and I each had a port placed in our upper chest to make frequent infusions a lot easier and more convenient than using a traditional IV. For those of you who don’t know what a port is, here’s a good description from a website I found: “A port is a small medical device that is installed beneath the skin usually in the upper chest. You can feel its raised center under your skin. A flexible piece of tubing (catheter) is connected to it. This is tunneled under the skin to an area near the neck where it enters a vein. The center of the port is made of a tough, self-sealing, rubber-like material that can be punctured through the chest skin with a special needle many times.”)

The two chemo drugs and the immunotherapy drug I get can cause serious nausea and vomiting, so they began the infusion process with three anti-nausea drugs. (They’ve also prescribed two meds to use at home as needed for nausea and vomiting.) Then came the immunotherapy drug followed by the two chemo drugs.

The infusion of one of those two chemo drugs (Taxol) takes three hours! And to reduce the chance of it causing neuropathy (pain in hands and feet), they wrapped my feet in ice packs and had me keep my hands in ice water for the whole three hours. That was not a thrill, but I’d sure rather deal with that for three hours than have to deal with neuropathy as a side effect of the chemo!

The total time spent sitting in my recliner with six drugs dripping one at a time through my port and into my vein was about six hours. One of the anti-nausea drugs was Benadryl, which forced me to spend some of that time dozing. I had brought some reading material but spent most of the non-dozing time just relaxing in the over-stuffed recliner.

Finally, 7.5 hours after entering the building and six hours after the start of the first infusion, a nurse removed the IV tube from my port and I was free to return home.

Before ending this post, I want to let you know how much of a blessing my wife Joanie has been. When I was so affected by radiation fatigue and every little thing (especially the sound of barking dogs) stressed me out, she took our three dogs to be boarded by a friend for over a week. When doctors were emphasizing the seriousness of this cancer, she renewed the subscription for one of my favorite magazines for three years “because you’ll still be around then.” When I’d be moody (and maybe even grumpy), she’d smile and offer words of encouragement. And she’s always seeking prayer from family, friends, and people in her Bible study groups. Joanie, you’ve been God’s gift to me for 34 years and I love you!