Poison IV(y).....

My date with Mr Herceptin had gone well, we liked each other and arranged to meet again in three weeks.  Meanwhile, being a greedy mare, I thought it wouldn't hurt to keep my options open so I arranged to meet Mr Docetaxol on the 23rd of December.  Unfortunately, our first date was an unmitigated disaster. Talk about Chalk n Cheese ...

The meeting place was the same as before, the space age hub that is our local hospital's chemotherapy unit. And, as before, the bit I dreaded most was the flipping cannula - the sooner I get the PICC line the better - for all of us - I'm sure the nurses are fed up with me swooning as soon as they say "can you make a fist please Debbie".   I was put on a glucose drip to prepare me (evidently, Mr D doesn't like saline - to my mind, Mr D is a blooming fussy bugger), once that finished Mr D and I were introduced, very slowly at first make sure we got on.  To pass the time, Alan I started playing card games on our Nintendos (yes, I know - we are big kids).  After about 10 minutes the nurse came back over and said she would speed up the flow as I wasn't showing any adverse reactions ie. my throat hadn't closed up, my tongue wasn't the size of a small country and I didn't look like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Total Recall (you know the bit where he is dressed as a woman and explodes - gotta love that film).  Now personally, I think this just goes to prove that old adage "you should never count your chickens until they are pickled"!  The nurse was right, all was fine at first, although I was I starting to feel quite tired but I hadn't slept at all the night before and so put it down to this.  About 15 minutes later Alan said he was nipping off to the loo and that's, as they say, when the trouble began..... Suddenly I started feeling a bit "out of it", my chest and neck went very red and I got quite hot.  I debated pushing the nurses call button (well, you don't like to disturb them do you?) but, in the end thought, I'd better - just in case.  By the time Alan returned the curtains were closed, chemo had been stopped, the Onc had been bleeped and I had been pumped with Piriton and steroids. "I can't leave you alone for two minutes" was his comment as he stuck his head round the curtain!  I'd had an allergic reaction to the carrier they put Docetaxol in - unbelievable - me who loves sugary, penny sweets - allergic to the syrup they put the drug in, what kind of sick joke is that?   After an hour of observation (most of which I spent asleep, oooh that Piriton is gooood) and yet more glucose the Dr decided to try again.  This time the reaction was almost immediate - in fact she was talking to me at the time and suddenly called "Stop!!" - I thought I was boring her.  More steroids were administered (at this rate I will be able to compete with Jodie Marsh) and I was observed for another 4-5 hours before being sent home with warnings about possible side effects and ambulances ringing in our ears.

Apart from being very tired, I felt perfectly ok that evening, although I was severely peed off that the treatment hadn't worked as this would now put me back by at least a fortnight.  I had been due to finish chemo just before the Annual Mums Wot Lunch day in March, now I won't be finishing until April - nearer to Alec's 18th Birthday - I don't think he will be very impressed at having a bald Mum dancing to "Oops Upside Yer Head" at his birthday party.

The following morning, Christmas Eve, I skyped with my cousins Sue and Geoff in New Zealand.  Being 12 hours ahead they had already started their celebrations with a dinner for visiting family and friends. We had a good laugh - mostly at my expense if I remember correctly eh Geoff lol - there was also something about a bottle of dessert wine Geoff had bought with him, it had a really rude name but I can't for the life of me remember what it was - trust Geoff!  We also chatted about Jenn, Sue's son's partner - who, at 21 is on the other side of the world fighting her own brave battle with Hodgkins Lymphoma.  Jenn is also a blogger (but her site is much fancier than mine - she has pictures and stuff - oh how I wish I was 21 again and understood technology so easily.... I might have to pick your brains Jenn!).  She and I share a very similar sense of humour about this whole Cancer crap, so if you want to read about a talented young woman showing cancer some kick ass moves have a read.  It's title is www.youresuperdelightful.com

Funny enough, I don't actually remember much about Christmas Eve from then on.  I think I slept quite a bit. I know we had Domino's pizza for tea as no-one could be bothered to cook - and my arm was still as useful as a chocolate teapot.   It's tradition that Alan and I wrap presents on Christmas Eve after the kids have gone to bed.  Alan wraps, because if you know me in RL you will know I am not at all arty crafty and my wrapping leaves alot to be desired, I am entrusted with writing the labels and that's it.  So we did this and went to bed.

Christmas morning I woke up very early, too bleeding early - 5.00am!! and felt wrong from the start - I couldn't even blame it on drinking Father Christmas' whiskey as we had forgotten to leave any out.  Poor old Rudolph didn't get a carrot either - they must have had the right raving hump when they left our house.  Alan woke up early too (poor old "early" he didn't get much of a lie in that day.... ) and we decided to sneak downstairs and have a cup of tea before the kids woke up, or in Alec's case - had to be woken up.  Hannah "bat ears" Cambrey (I mean she has the hearing of a bat, she doesn't have little slits in the side of her head) heard us - so no cup of tea until her stocking presents had been opened.

I spent Christmas Day asleep on the sofa, I woke up at various points to watch bits of The Nativity - I still don't know what happened at the end - did anyone Sky+ it?, to eat Christmas dinner - cooked brilliantly by Alan, who also washed up and put away (the kids had vanished off the face of the earth) and to eat some Christmas Pud.   I spent the afternoon in much the same way, minus the food.  I missed the Queens Speech but evidently she talked about 2011 being a wonderful year hmmmm I'll catch it next Christmas.   At about 6.30pm I moved (there was a newsflash on the BBC to announce it) from my sofa to the reclining chair at my Mum & Dad's and I slept there instead.  At various points I woke up to watch my nephew Freddy singing "Wheels on the Bus", open presents and watch a bit of Ice Age 3, at least I know how that ended.  

We left there about 10.00pm and by now I was feeling very unwell.  My stomach was hurting with what felt like gastric pains - there were other symptoms but I wouldn't want to put you off your dinner.  Within half an hour of arriving home I told Alan I needed to go to hospital as I was sure something was very wrong.  He called the emergency number we had been given and explained what was happening now and what had happened on 23rd December.  The nurse on the other end didn't instill us with much confidence when she suggested I might have eaten something that disagreed with me hmmmmm let me think........oh yes CHEMO!!!!  Alan put on his "work" voice and she finally agreed that I needed to come in to A&E.  The nurse said she would, as she is supposed to do, notify the staff of my imminent arrival.  The reason A&E need to know you are on your way is so that they can a) alert the on call Oncologist and b) be prepared to see you asap ie. taking bloods etc.  The blood results should be back within one hour and, if you have an infection the medical card you carry has a note of which antibiotics the Dr can give.  An infection whilst you are undergoing chemo can be very serious and needs to be treated urgently by IV antibiotics.

We only live about 10 mins from the hospital and as traffic was light, we were there in record time.  I gave my name at the desk, handed over my card and was told to sit away from everyone else in the waiting room - blimey, you can't catch "chemo brain" you know humph.  A triage nurse came to collect me about 10 minutes later, she took my bloody pressure (left arm please....) and temperature.  We explained I was taking paracetamol for the operation so she knew that might artificially lower my temperature.  Within 20 minutes I was handed over to the 12 year old child who got a Drs coat for Christmas and was in charge of A& E that night.  

Now, at this point I would like to point out that, since I was diagnosed I have had nothing but praise for our Drs and nurses, their professionalism, their compassion (their sense of humour!) and the speed at which my treatment has been sorted has made me feel like I am in safe hands whilst I fight this nasty Git.  However, on this night I must admit I was seriously scared stiff that I was NOT in safe hands.  She was bloody useless and despite how ill I felt, I asked Alan to get me out of there.  However, he ignored me and, for the third time that night we found ourselves explaining about the allergic reaction to the chemo and how I had been given Piriton and steroids to try and combat the effects.  Her first question after she had stood there smiling at me for what seemed like an eternity was "and why are you taking Piriton".....  I could have hit her with a bedpan - but they are made of cardboard, a bit like her!

Two hours, 1 litre of saline and some intravenous painkillers, (we think, because she never bothered to tell me what she was giving me) later, she announced that my bloods had come back.  She explained that if I had an infection my white cells were at the level they were expected to be and would be fighting it!  She told us we could go home and I was out of there quicker than s*** off a shovel!  At that pointed I wanted to die in my own bed! (yes, yes, dramatic I know - I was full of drugs, scared stiff and having weird dreams so indulge me.....!)

Guess where I spent Boxing Day?  Go, on, guess - bet ya can't........ damn, am I that predictable?  Yep, in bed!  Alan came upstairs beaming telling me he had loaded up Sky Go on the laptop so I wouldn't be bored.  I had a quick flick through and fancied "Mars Needs Moms" as I hadn't seen it and everthing else required at least two working brain cells.  I watched it for about 15 minutes and fell asleep - another film I don't know the flaming ending to - this is becoming a habit.

In the early hours of the morning, after another sleepless night, I started getting chest pains as well as the stomach cramps.  It felt as though someone was tightening a belt around my chest (I now believe they were some kind of anxiety attack).  I was now worse than I had been 24 hours before.  Alan called the emergency number again and we were expecting a repeat of the conversation on Christmas night.  This time however, the nurse on the ward told us to get to hospital asap.  He alerted A&E and the on-call Oncologist that I was coming and after triage and an ECG I was admitted to the cancer ward for steroids, meds, tests and observation. See, I told you I was ill......  

The ward I was on had three other beds, two of which were occupied.  The lady in the bed next to me was Gladys.  Gladys was in her late 70s and had been told six weeks earlier that she has untreatable lung cancer.  At the end of November she had gone to the Dr with what she thought was a frozen shoulder (one of her hobbies is needlework and she thought she had overdone it).  Her Dr, however, was on the ball and immediately sent her for tests as he suspected something else altogether.  Gladys told me that she had always been in perfect health, had never smoked a cigarette in her life, kept fit by walking lots and ate a low fat diet - what a kick in the teeth eh.   After her diagnosis she had remained at her flat until she developed breathing difficulties and had to be admitted to hospital just before Christmas.  Far from being upset or sad about this she told me it had been one of her best Christmases ever.  All her family had been allowed to visit (usually only two visitors to a bed) for as long as they wanted.  They had a good laugh and talked non stop.  Gladys and I talked for hours in between visiting times.  I know that her favourite flowers are Sweetpeas (she prefers the wild kind), she likes ground Roses, loves her daughters to pieces and is thrilled that they have all found partners who make them happy.  She said she wasn't sad that her time had come because she has done everything she ever wanted to do in her life - there was nothing left on her "bucket list".  It was a privilege to meet Gladys and I will never forget her.

That first night in hospital I was lying there thinking "argh I am never gonna get to sleep".  The bed was uncomfortable, IV(y) kept bleeping, Joan in the bed opposite was snoring and some woman on the labour ward was screaming obscenities at her other half.  Then Gladys called over - did I fancy a club?  Well, I thought, why not?  IV(y) might set the metal detectors off but I could bluff my way past the bouncers surely?  I hadn't had a good dance for ages. I mentally went through the clothes that Alan had brought up for me earlier - was there anything that would pass for clubbing gear these days - oh of course there was - my nightie, I've seen the young girls in theirs - it's all the rage.  I don't think it mattered that mine has "Wake me at your peril" stamped on it.....  I was just about to answer her, when Gladys leaned over and said "mint or orange" .......  altogether now "If you like a lotta chocolate on your biscuit join our club"...... ;-)

After 24 hours I finally started feeling "normal" again and they said I could go home. I looked like an extra from some horror movie. I had a chicken pox type rash all over my face, head, neck and chest - particularly itchy in my ears - yuck! I was on more steroids than Popeye and lots of other meds to go with the trunkload I bought home a couple of weeks ago. If it had been Halloween I would of been minted!

So, that was our Christmas 2011 - what a pile of poop!  To top things off, I came home from hospital and someone who shall remain nameless - Hannah - had eaten all the purple Quality Streets - her excuse?  She thought they might go off!   

Christmas 2012 will be much better - for one thing, I will be awake for another I will remove all the purple QS from the tin before I let my lot at them.

Anyway, my chemo starts again on the 6th Jan, where I will be meeting up with Docetaxols younger, (hopefully friendlier) brother, Paxotil - he doesn't come in a syrupy carrier so I will be keeping everything crossed we get on.... the way my luck is going, he will probably come in pessary format!  My next post will be all about that little adventure so,

As always, Onwards & Upwards!

Debs x