Well, my last update was on Day 6, at which time, I was doing well and all signs pointed to getting out on Day 10. I think it was around day 7 that I began running a fever. So days 7-8 found me sleeping except for the four hour tests, vital checks, meds, etc.
First, I’ll explain the tests. One of the side effects of getting the TCells back into my body is that it can cause neurotoxicity. They test me for this reaction by asking me several random questions, having me identify objects and/or touching my nose, etc. I also have to count backwards from 100 by 10 and write out a sentence. They use these to watch for signs that things are heading south, mental-wise, for me, which for anyone who knows me, knows this is no easy task to begin with.
Ok, funny side note. Way before any issues, I called one night to place my dinner order. The lady answers with, “I see you have your dinner order placed, how can I help you?” I’d already been planning to order a grilled chicken sandwich. As I told her I hadn’t placed a food order, she began telling me the existing order of “grilled chicken, a coke and a side salad”. I told her it wasn’t anything I had ordered and she placed me on hold to cancel it. She came back and took my order, which I changed so she wouldn’t think I was crazy. Then I sat there thinking that maybe I was having an episode, I had placed a wrong order and did not remember it. I later found out that Food Service was having more than a few episodes that day. At least it wasn’t me.
Let’s get caught up, slept for two days… so yesterday, I’m feeling much better. So much that I actually sit up in bed and watch TV. The nurse pops in for the usual questions and for the first time, I stumble on the counting backwards. This is ironic, because after the first chemo round, I have had issues with numbers. Try telling me a phone number and I may have to have it repeated. I once listened to a voice mail four times to write down the call back number and the worst case was I saw a 6 and kept thinking and telling the other person that it was a 9, all while they kept saying 6.
No big issue in missing one point of these tests, but I later stumbled on the counting again in that from 50-10, my mind had it going from 10-50. When I finished, I told the nurse I had realized that I had messed it up and she told me I had done it correctly. Weird, but you should try experiencing it. Then I misspelled the same word twice in writing my sentences, but also realized it both times. I can’t even count how many mistakes I have made typing the last sentence.
Fast forward to this morning. Oh, I forgot to mention in the land of Glennard. So, you know the expression about tearing up and anvil with a rubber hammer? Well, that is me. So when they were trying to get a vacutainer to the picc line, a piece of it broke off inside the picc line. I know, at this point, you’re thinking I’m in an episode and am imagining all of this. No, this is just the world that surrounds me. As a matter of fact, several nurses came in to see it because everyone kept saying, “I’ve never seen that”.
So this morning, I’m feeling pretty good for the 2nd day in a row, but with an IV to push meds and fluids in. The nurse pops in and starts one of them. She isn’t gone long, when there is a dull ache around the IV. It isn’t the sharp burning pain of a blown vein, but different. I press the assistance button and by the time a different nurse is checking on it, the pain is gone. She checks the IV and she leaves. No faster than she leaves the pain returns and it is getting worse. Assistance is pressed again and I wait. I wait some more as my thumb begins to tingle and all the while, I’m wondering what is going on because anytime I’ve had to ask for anything, it’s been less than a minute for anything. Finally, after what felt like ten minutes (I honestly don’t know how long), my door opens and it’s Food Services. And just behind are my nurse and the new on-coming nurse. As soon as they enter, they realize it is the medication I was getting and I complete the dose as a citrus flavored cup of water.
I’m now just about to start this blog, and have probably only typed a few sentences, when the nurse comes in to start another medication. She hooks up everything and let’s me know she’s headed to get a computer and will be right back. Not five seconds out the door, I have way more fiery pain at the IV site. This feels more like the blown vein pain, but different. I immediately press the button because with my luck, there’ll be five people flagging her down for random questions or something. Another nurse comes in just before my nurse gets here and they determine that the medication is again the source. A try at, I think half the dosing, still brought pain, but we found a rate which has no pain, but it takes 2.5 hours. An IV solution has been plotted for the next dose.
They say that whatever doesn’t kill you…. well, I don’t think “they” ever went through chemo. I’m just glad I can find humor in both rounds. I have memories I wouldn’t have otherwise. Everything from Kelly having a lizard in the room (not Emory) in the middle of the night to what we think was a patient died a few doors down and the family was very emotional and loud (according to Kelly, because I was in the basement period). From getting a postcard (the only one mind you) for a cemetery plot just a week or so out of the hospital from my initial diagnosis and me saying that anyone can beat one cancer, I’ll beat two at once.
Memories that tell a story. A story that has some definite roller coaster ups and downs. Would I have chosen it? No. But boy have I and my family ridden it. Do I know why I got this ride? I do not. I don’t know all the answers and sometimes don’t even know all the questions, but I do know who does. This is what matters. How fitting that this Easter weekend. Cancer’s pains are often healed and/or treated through ways that are painful to endure. The story of redemption of mankind’s sin is wrapped in pain.
Jesus was born a baby who grew into a kid who suffered every scraped knee, stubbed toe and hammered fingernail that any of us have endured. He had a few trusted close friends. He cried when one of them died. Around a dinner table with the one He knew would betray Him, and He chose to eat with him one last time. Let that sink in. He would soon experience excruciating pain in the torture of the cross. All for us and again, let that sink in.
All that He went through was part of a plan that was bigger than any of them could see. The part they played in telling others somehow wove it’s way through time to where we are today and what we know about Jesus. And so, we find ourselves playing a part in telling others so that they will know. Our part has not diminished because of its distance in time and, now I believe it is even more vital than ever. The stakes are that high. Do your part in telling someone about Jesus.
Cancer 10-109D 