Taxol, Taxol, Do the Paclitaxol (You have to sing this title)...

As usual, the day before my next “ date” I had to make sure I was in tip top physical condition (ha ha ha - forgive me whilst I choke on my Syrup of Figs, 8 steroids, anti gastric tablet and numerous anti-sickness meds….), this means trotting off (oh if only… yes, I am jealous of your bowel movements dear reader)  to Draculas  - sorry, the Drs for a full blood count.  If your blood test comes back iffy then they can’t give you the chemo  simples!  So, with my right arm still being as useful as a one armed trapeze artist with an itchy ass, I had asked my friend Rachael to drive me about that day – I would like to point out she now refers these trips as her “Driving Miss Debbie” duties. 

Stabbed and plastered (a bit like a Saturday night out in Southend), we left the Drs, our next stop being the hospital, where I had an appointment with the Rehab Physio to check up on my SNB recovery.  Despite the setback at Christmas, I am pleased to report that my scar is healing nicely and I have nearly full movement in my arm – yah boo sucks Alan – I told you I was doing my exercises.  The physio gave me a couple of different exercises to include in my routine, which will stretch the muscle a bit and stop it feeling like I have a tight elastic band strapped around the top of my arm.  So, if you spy me “walking up a wall” don’t worry, I haven’t suddenly decided to try out for the new Spidey film, just doing my exercises.

The following day was “D Day” and after my disastrous date with Doce Taxol, I wasn’t too sure if his brother Pacli and I were going to fare much better.   I’d asked Mum to come along to this one to keep me company.   She and Dad picked me up about 10.45 and we headed off to what is fast becoming our second home.  I had my “chemo bag” all packed with enough goodies to keep us going for the day – chocolate, Kindle, wordsearch, slippers, fruit (honest), chocolate, crisps, chocolate, and biscuits  - all that was missing was the Frisbee, the dog and the kite!  (I can supply the wind…..)

My appointment was at 11.30 but I wanted to get there early as I knew I was being “slotted’ in on an extremely busy day and, after the Doce Disaster, I didn’t want me being late to result in yet another missed chance at blasting The Git.  So, Mum and I were dropped off, checked-in and in the waiting room just after 11.00.  Unfortunately, when I am nervous I chatter – non-stop and nineteen to the dozen, and my poor Mum had to listen to over an hour of me prattling on about everything and anything.  So, if your ears were burning between 11.00 and 12.30 last Friday  - you know someone was thinking of you ;-)

Finally the nurse came to weigh me and take me through to The Bridge (remember the space ship analogy here please) to weigh me and order my treatment.  Surprisingly, despite the fact that where food is concerned, I have recently turned into a human Dyson (thanks to the copious amounts of steroids), I hadn’t actually put any weight on – ooh quick look up there - it’s one of those silver lining thingys.  Thank goodness it wasn’t a flying pig – I’d have eaten it! (in between two slices of thick white (yes Dad, I know I should be thinking of my arteries.…) fresh bread with lots of brown sauce)

Luckily a couple of the nurses that had witnessed my previous misbehaviour allergic reaction were on duty, so we had a chat and I filled them in on all the gory details of what had happened over Christmas.  They are a lovely bunch and reassured me they would keep a very close eye on me at this appointment, just in case I misbehaved reacted again. Hmm I think I am getting a bit of a reputation.

Paclitaxol (“Taxol”), my new drug of choice, is given as a lower dose for nine weeks.  The (only) plus point is that I am less likely to lose my hair though it may get thinner, the downside is that I am pricked weekly - ooer Missus!  Also, it can still cause an allergic reaction each time it is administered and it’s for this reason that you are given half an hour of pre-poison meds before the actual chemo begins.  As I haven’t had my PICC line (or my Central, Northern or Hammersmith & City Line for that matter) put in yet, I still have to have a canula put in place before treatment can begin.  This simple procedure took place in the calm manner to which we are all becoming accustomed.  The nurse tapping and flicking my arm, trying desperately to find one of my “rubbish” veins (this time she admitted defeat and resorted to a heat bag to try and coax the buggers to the surface) and my normal laid back response: feeling faint, going pale, singing to myself and going to my “happy place”  - all the time praying I don’t conk out or throw up on her mid stab.

Finally, after much sweating (me, not the nurse), it is done and I am plugged in.  Let the fun can begin…..

First, I get a bag of saline to hydrate me – this is despite the fact I have been drinking pints of water all morning and am peeing for England – see I may not bother with the instruction manual for my phone or the DVD player, but I do read my “what to do before chemo” notes.   Next to go in is Mr Piriton  – within minutes I can feel my eyes getting heavy and I know that my speech is slurring – giving Mums poor ears a much deserved rest – I swear I heard her sing the Hallelujah chorus.  Then came the steroids (quick lock the fridge…..) then finally anti- sickness and anti-gastric-something-or-other (this one protects my stomach).   After this delicious liquid Appetiser they served the Plat de Jour – Taxol, which was started on a very very slow drip the nurses then stood back and wait for the fireworks…..

For the next hour or so I was subjected to constant calls of “you ok Debbie”, “feeling ok Debbie” and “any reaction Debbie” from every passing Dr, nurse, HCA  - even the cleaner got in on the act at one point.   Mum, meanwhile, sat at the end of the bed pretending to read but watching me like a hawk - just in case I turned a funny colour, passed out or generally started misbehaving in any way.  After reassuring her that I was fine and not planning on doing a runner or causing a scene she finally left to take my prescription to the pharmacy and get herself some lunch and a much needed breath of air.  

I’m not sure if I have mentioned it before, but they give you (the patient) lunch whilst you are having your chemo.  You can have soup, a sandwich (or both), some fruit (freak!) or a Kit-Kat (Note: thanks to my friend Nikki who told me to look out for this little perk).  On this day I chose a Kit-Kat – well who wouldn’t – and happily munched away on it.  Mum returned from her lunch and I remarked that due to the heat on the ward, my Kit-Kat had melted all over my fingers..  Now, there I was hooked up to IV(y) – trapped, unable to escape - helpless.  Mum took a tissue from her bag, licked it and wiped my chin and my neck where the chocolate had dripped.  The woman in the opposite bed and her friend nearly wet themselves laughing and called out “only a mum can get away with that”.   Honestly, I am going to need years of therapy!

I am happy to report though that Taxol and I got on like a house on fire (the fact that it has left a 2 inch burn mark on one of my veins is testament to that – the official name is Phlebitis – your word of the day) and we have arranged to meet once a week for the next 8 weeks to give the relationship a real chance of success.  Of course, what Taxol doesn’t know is that I am going to continue to meet up with Herceptin every three weeks – just to keep my options open you understand! Chemo Tart I hear you cry!

The nurses were keen to avoid an allergic reaction this time and it was agreed the slower the drip, the better the chance of acceptance, so it took three long hours to administer Taxol on this first occasion.  Finally, at around 6pm I was unplugged and, as Dad was at work, we called my youngest sister Kate who came to collect us and take us home.  Her timing was perfect and she pulled up just as we left the building.   Whilst I had been at the hospital my friend Tracy had been a busy lady.  We arrived home to find that, not only had she taken delivery of my new sofa, but she had also cooked us a lovely meal.  I cannot stress enough how much that was appreciated.  Not having to cook or even think about cooking that evening was such a bonus – thank you Tracy.  Hannah had been collected from school by my friend Kerry who had fed, watered and entertained her and she was brought home later that evening having had a lovely time – so my thanks to Kerry and her family too.

Over the weekend the side effects started to make themselves known – the worst of which being a loss of taste.  Now, I can accept the tiredness, possible early menopause and hair loss – but to not be able to taste chocolate – well that’s just NOT ON!  Gradually everything lost its flavour – even water (I promise you), mind you, I’ve yet to try the chewing gum I stuck on the bedpost overnight!  I can only describe it as though the inside of your mouth has been covered in a layer of lard – disgusting eh?  Why don’t you give it a go and see what I mean – no – didn’t you realize this is one of those “virtual blogs”? Okay then, you will just have to take my word for it.

Sunday was Hannah’s 11^th Birthday, she had asked for a party but, obviously we’d had to explain that I might not be up to entertaining a dozen 10/11 year -old excited girls.  I’ve promised her a BIG party next year to make up for all the crap she is dealing with right now.  Errr on that note, if anyone is friends with the guys from The Wanted, can you ask them if they’re busy next January please (I blame chemo brain for the daft things I am saying at the moment – it’s ok, maybe she won’t remember……). 

Each year we celebrate her Birthday by going to the Panto at the Cliffs with all the family, but this year, due to Shane Ritchie’s commitments to DeadEnders, (ah poor old Pat – I think Roly killed her), the run had ended on New Years Eve.  Therefore, it was arranged that the family would come over to our house instead to celebrate.  Unfortunately, Alan’s mum was taken poorly the night before and one of my sisters, Gill – she of the witty comments - and her family live “Oop North” now, so they were unable to attend in person – we did Skype however and a delighted Hannah got to see her baby cousin, James.  

Everyone else came though, Nanny, Dan Dan, Auntie Kate, Uncle Kevin, Auntie Trina, the whirlwind that is her 2 year old cousin The Fredster, Donna & Sian.  We did the candles (twice - so Fred could blow them out) and the cake, she got lots of presents – the doorbell was going all morning with friends dropping off cards and gifts.  After everyone had left we took her out to a local pub/restaurant for dinner – where she ate THREE desserts – I’m going to have to count my steroids.  So, all in all, she had a very happy and lovely day.

Over the next few days I got used to the side effects, tiredness, my jealousy of your “movements”, nose bleeds but NOT the loss of taste – can you tell how annoyed I am about that?  By Wednesday though that had started to return – phew!   Just in time for my next dose on Friday 13^th (cue Halloween music).

As always, Onwards & Upwards!

Debs x


EDIT:  Just to say that you no, you haven't "caught" my chemo brain, and I have changed the title of this Post.  All week I have been singing that blasted tune in my head but, when Al and I were discussing the name of this Post we were trying to come up with witty one liners (you try rhyming Taxol!!).  The "there's only three guarantees in this life....." quote kept cropping up so we adapted it.  However, I have re-read it this morning and think it looks a bit morbid-y (it's my blog so there is such a word - ok?) and I have changed it to the more bouncy "Taxol, Taxol, do the Paclitaxol" - cos I can!   Debs x