The side effects of bleeomycin, according to the info I received:
-rash at site of injection
-fever
-hair loss
-skin discoloration around elbows and knees (?)
NOT nausea, right? You all see it.
So I wasn't that worried about surviving yesterday, except that they gave me Benadryl for the rash, and we all remember last Wednesday...and hey, I talked them down to a half-dose on that. After my dose in the morning, I go to work, ready to face my day, and crash. Real hard. It was kind of like:
10:00-11:00 - I am fine.
11:00-11:45 - A little sleepy
11:45-12:15 - A lot sleepy
12:15-12:30 - I just kind of sit and stare at my computer
12:30-12:40 - zzzzzzzz.
12:40 - I leave.
That lesson learned (fucking Benadryl). But that is not the story, oh no no no my little droogies, because after I got home, everything went straight to hell.
My father and Dr. Shevrin later came to the conclusion that I probably needed to eat right after the chemo, and that's where my problems began. But I didn't. Now I know. Anyway, the story gets right disgusting after here, so if you're weak of heart, or have good sense, skip ahead to the line of asterisks.
I never felt "nauseous" as such. But I did vomit. Quite a lot actually. At about 1:30 or 2:00, I emptied what must have been an entire stomachful of bile. I have no idea how this much bile managed to find its way into my digestive tract, but there it was. This trauma apparently burst a blood vessel somewhere or other, because I then vomited blood. Not much, but still...good God, it is scary. I called the hospital, and they assured me that I wasn't going to die of internal bleeding, which made me happy, and I had some water and tried to sleep.
40 minutes later, the water came back up.
My parent arrived around 4:30 or so, I wasn't keeping an eye on the clock (b/t the sick and the tired, I was barely conscious whatsoever between 1:00 and 7:00 last night. And all the straining and clenching &c, had given me what is almost without doubt the worst headache I have ever had). Around 5:00, the last vomiting of the night, about half a stomachful of bile mixed with blood. My dad called my oncologist, who seemed convinced that I wasn't going to die in the night. Good enough for me.
**********
After all that fun, I was pretty much just tired, thank god, although my head felt like it was being squeezed in a c-clamp. So I slept a lot. My parents procured food for me, pretty much the most innocuous stuff they could get (saltines! flavorless potatoes! herbal tea!). At the time I went to bed, I would guess that I had about 3/4 of flavorless carbohydrates in system (and whatever minimal protiens the potatoes might have added). At 11:30, I slept the sleep of the just, or at least the sleep of those who feel like they've been punched in the gut a dozen times and then stepped on.
I think it fair to say that the I have a new "the worst 12-hour period in my whole life."
WHAT I LEARNED:
Eat something starchy before chemo.
Eat something starchy after chemo.
Take the optional anti-nausea meds before bleeomycin, even though it "doesn't cause nausea."
Holistic/animist approaches to cancer treatment, such as firedances in which the spirit of the cancer is implored to leave my body, are beginning to look like a reasonable alternate option.
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3 comments:
So every time I talk to my dad, he asks me how you're doing, and then he tells me to tell you to make sure you are hydrated. Though your two circumstances are quite different, my dad claims things were much improved once he learned to keep himself properly hydrated. Though I'm sure you have enough holes on your arms (at least you don't have "a port") getting a saline solution can sometimes do wonders. At least as good as holistic/animistic treatments
There, I have passed on the words of the father and shall not trouble you with them again.
And if you ever need someone to commiserate with, we can come over and punch Joe in the gut for a couple hours and put his head in a C clamp... unless he minds, but Joe's a pretty laid back guy.
If you need help with alternative treatments I can teach you that rain dance. I'm not sure how it would help, but...
Hello Tim,
It's Min Xiu here, if you're wondering. Yep, got the news from Cameron. Just wanted to say, if an old fart like my dad can beat down the cancer thingy, you can too.
I'll be visiting Evanston in March, so I'll see you then. In the meantime, take care.
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