So, on April 17th, I had my first (out of six) chemo treatments. Having taken mom in for her treatments, I really had a jumpstart on what to expect. Usually, infusions are given in an infusion room with lots of chairs set up looking out the windows...but for my first time, they wanted to go extra slow to monitor for allergic reactions so I was able to get a private room with a bed, which felt like a luxury. The nurse I had was extra nice, having treated mom her for immunotherapy the day before. I don't think they come across a mother and daughter in treatment at the same time very often (thank goodness) and in some ways it is humanizing our case to them, which can only be a good thing.
The treatment I am getting is called: R-CHOP. It is very effective in treating my form of lymphoma. I felt for my body, not knowing what was about to hit it.
I brought in reinforcing supplies and felt the love from family and friends holding me in their heart as I started this treatment that nobody wants to experience.
The treatment itself was not hard, physically. It was just a lot of crazy stuff put into my body at once. In addition to the infusion, I had to swallow so many pills and go home with a chart of what to take when and carefully track it. Having barely taken medicine before, it felt like a real assault on my body. But, one I knew was my best chance of getting better. Emotionally, it was a very big deal. I still felt partly in denial to find myself in that position.
They told me that it usually takes 2-3 days for the effects to fully hit and that everyone responds differently so you can only wait and see. I ended up feeling like an anthropologist in my own body. I was in total observation mode, wondering about every new and unusual feeling. My treatment was on a Friday and by Monday, I started to feel the heavy grogginess and overall "yuckiness" that everyone I've talked to who has had chemo says is so "hard to describe". The anti-nausea medication did a good job of keeping the nausea at bay (which was my worst fear) but for 6 days I felt pretty crummy: no energy, no appetite, when I could eat food tasted flavorless, and the hardest part was how easily I got dehydrated. I had to go to the toilet constantly (which they stressed is a good thing...to help my kidney's flush out the cancer cells that were dying at a rapid rate). This was especially hard at night when it was really hard to fall asleep again after waking up over and over and over. I learned to drink a glass of water regularly whether I felt like it or not and this helped a lot. I had to gauge how long and frequently to take the anti-nausea medication, which had its own side effects. But I was very worried about "getting behind it". It's all such a learning curve!
The hard part in this situation, is that unlike the flu where you feel awful but know that you will get over it and feel better--with chemo...you know you are going to have to go though it over and over again. In the midst of feeling so bad that felt very overwhelming.
At the same time, Zack made sure I walked every day, even when I didn't feel like it (and sometimes the boys came over and joined us).
Mom made sure I ate something on a regular basis and did everything she could to cheer me up.
Han & I continued to video chat several times a day and the photos he sends me each day continue to open up my world. My life over there feels alive and well and I feel close to it -and him- thanks to the magic of the internet (and 💕 ).
Since I'm writing this in hindsight, now I feel stronger about it. Knowing the worst part was really the first week and that I could look forward to two weeks of feeling better and better between treatments felt/feels doable.
We called the aid car. They got me set up to make it to the ER. Eli drove me. I was in such pain. X-rays were excruciating. It turns out I fractured my arm in two places. One, up top, on my shoulder. And a giant break in the middle of my humorous.
That explained it. The doctor working said it was bad enough that she'd usually admit me to the hospital for several days for pain relief alone but because of the virus they would do anything to avoid that with my compromised immune system. She wanted to send me home with pain medication to see if I could make it on my own. That felt daunting. I ended up leaving with just a sling (which wasn't nearly enough to stop the bone from shifting and causing pain) and some heavy duty pain medication. They said I'd come back in a week to follow up with an orthopedic surgeon.
Zack and Eli were both waiting to take me home. They were so calm under pressure and took such good care of me!
Luckily, when I got home I contacted, my guardian angel, Dr. Chun, who was my "squeaky wheel" once again. He got me into the orthopedic office the next day. They put on a much better compression brace that made all the difference. I can't fathom if I'd had to go a week to get that. I'm still processing my feeling of PTSD over how that whole situation was handled.
Even with the brace, I needed a ton of help. Zack had to set his alarm several times a night to give me the medication and to help me to the bathroom, which was a 20 minute ordeal. I felt (feel!) full of angst at how I managed to make an already hard situation SOOOO much harder. If only, if only, if only.
And yet...here I am...one week later....and again, the pattern of healing is showing itself. Already, I am feeling stronger. I had follow up X-rays done yesterday and they said it was holding steady in place, which is really good news. My arm is still so painful but the rest of my body is learning how to adapt and compensate. I can get out of bed on my own. Zack can sleep through the night. In one week! I never would've guessed it. They said if I wasn't having chemo they would want to treat it surgically by putting in pins but it is not an option for me at this point. They are hopeful that in about 12 weeks it will heal itself. I have 15 weeks of this chemo process left so it basically will be a side by side journey. What the heck?!
I've been thinking about this podcast a lot from Rob Bell where he talks about how life comes in waves. It's so true, isn't it? And I do trust, for sure, that the giant, scary waves come...and then they go. And sometimes we can feel upside down with the pummeling...but we can trust that if we ride them out, we will come out the other side in one piece. And there will even come a day when the sea is as calm as can be and we can't even imagine that once there were giant waves crashing in this very spot. I trust this pattern...and that makes all the difference. Even when I'm in the thick of it. It's so interesting that when the giant waves sneak up at first, the self-talk is so strong and predictable, "I'm not strong enough for this. I can't do this. This is too hard. This can't be happening." And...then, before you know it: you adapt. It doesn't stay so raw as it is in the beginning. The pattern has shown itself to me so repeatedly and clearly these last weeks. I am so thankful for that!
❤️
