Chemo Chronicles: Episode I

Today is mom's first day of chemo. If you know me, you know I plan and obsess and plan some more. The thing about this... I had no idea what to plan for. Chemo is different for each person and each cancer and each stage of cancer. It's so personalized, and then each person is so different- the reactions and such are therefore different for each person. They tell you 30% of people experienced these symptoms, and 10-29% experienced these... so that's what you can probably, maybe, perhaps expect. But the only thing most guaranteed is that your hair will fall out (again, probably) and you'll be tired. In my research and quest to find out information about what the hell is going to happen, I found nothing. Even these blogs that women have written (which by the way are totally estrogen fueled and considering they are usually on estrogen blockers, I don't get it... seriously- give me facts, not tears) and informational pages cancer sites have put out have nothing that suited me as sufficient. So I'm doing my own.

Take a damn bag with you to the infusion center. You are gonna need shit while you're there. They will have some snacks and drinks probably- and it's free, but it might not be stuff you like. Better safe than sorry, and better over prepared than ill-prepared. Main point: bring water or at least something to put water in. They should have a water cooler there, but just in case- bring lots of water with you for your first appointment to make sure you have it. Also bring stuff to do- laptop, handheld gaming device, Kindle/Nook/whatever, magazines... just things to keep you from being totally bored. No worries- you can go to the bathroom and stuff while you're hooked up, too. It's really not what I thought it would be. 

Chemo is administered intravenously- either with a new IV each time or a pre-installed port. Mom has a port, and that looks like this after it's been hooked up and ready for infusion:

Her tattoo wasn't touched in the install, either :)

They draw blood and everything from the port, which is great for mom, who has shittastic veins. The nurse will have to find the port and get all the stuff you see there hooked up. You'll spend your first appointment hearing all kinds of information - some is repeated, some is new. The doctor will probably talk to you again and the infusion center nurse will talk to you. That bitch- she was helpful. She will tell you what you need to know. We were told initially the big treatment sessions (every 3 weeks) of the 3 drugs - Carboplatin, Taxotere, Herceptin for mom - would take 7 hours. Nerp. We were there at 8am, started infusion at 9am and were done at 1:30pm. Not that the doctor was wrong, but well- it didn't take 7 hours. Mom was very fortunate and didn't have any weird tastes, nausea, or severe reactions during her time in the chair. Speaking of, tada:

Not horrible, but not awesome. I'll take that. 

The overall experience was so much better than I thought it would be, honestly. Mom would have to agree...

Just started infusion.

Mom eating lunch, hence the face. :D

There were several older people there, and numerous people coming and going to receive their Nulasta shot, which keeps your white blood cell count up, as chemo makes it drop because chemo doesn't know the fucking difference between normal cells and cancerous cells. It just goes on a killing spree which hey- is effective, but also what causes the mouth sores, hair loss, low blood counts, nausea, and having the craps. Yup. Awesome stuff. 

All that to say, so far - so good. Mom is now home (after a trip to WalMart and CycleGear... yeah...) and chatting away and doing fucking amazing. I'm staying with her tonight to just make sure she's good through the night and part of tomorrow. Side effects usually will kick in from time of direct infusion up to 24-48 hours after, so I want to be sure that all is well before heading back to central standard time. 

Again, I'm wanting to do this to put information out there because I honestly couldn't find much of anything anywhere that was along the lines of what I wanted to know. Although no one may ever see this to use again, you never know. Man has lots of ideas and plans for app development, and it's really good shit he has in mind. Shit that could take off and be for real functional and helpful- and maybe lead to other things that I would love to have a hand in. The truth is things like this motivate you, and force you to realize the flaws and needs regarding a situation that so many people face. 

Now. On to more important things... 

***************************************************************************

UPDATE: THE DAY AFTER...

I feel like a little snippet is in order to say that I'm super thankful and so fucking happy that mom is having no side effects. Like - none, ya'll. For real. Okay- her face was a little flushed last night and she had a bit of flushing on her chest- but that's IT. This is CHEMO and my mother isn't sick, super tired, in any pain... her fucking face just flushed. I was hoping I could document and chronicle this adventure in case others happened to stumble on it, but I literally have nothing to tell. Now, in a couple weeks when she loses her locks (again, who knows at this point- she might end up having her hair grow 6" given the issues we're not having so far) I'm sure I'll have some word of wisdom or snarky bullshit. 

Until then, I really am pretty speechless about it all. Although I do have to mention mom just said said she's gonna get herself a scooter. Whatever you want, mama. Whatever the fuck you want. <3