Still in hospital!

I've been in hospital since my last post. In that time quite a lot has happened. A quick summary:
* Dark thoughts of doom (not fun)
* 3 days of chemo (details later)
* PICC line in my arm
* Arm the size of an elephant and the colour of a babboons bottom
* Coughing till I'm sick
* And.... hospital food!

Got here wednesday and was scheduled for a PICC line being put in on friday. This is a tube that starts at your elbow, goes inside veins, along your chest and empties the other side. Having it put it was like being the sausage skin when then the sausages were being made. My arm was already swollen so i think he needed to give it some extra gumption to get it in.
Later chemo started with the Rituximab and a quick infusion of one of the other drugs. All ok.
Saturday was the 24 hour infusion day. Unfortunately when they put in my line they only had single ones whereas I need two, so they had to use the canula in my other hand. Basically this chemo drug is pretty nasty and so they have to load you with masses of fluid and another drug called Mesna, so it doesn't start messing up your bladder and kidneys. Yummy. Now, here's the rub. Getting about 12 litres of fluid means that it has got to go somewhere. They dont want it settling in your body as a)that leads to bad things and b)makes you look really silly. The solution? Everything you drink and everything you pee out has to be measured and checked to make sure its balancing the fluid going in. So, picture me now. I have tubes in each arm, going to drips on either side of my bed. A kind of crucifixion set up. I'm not going anywhere. I'm feeling rubbish, due to chemo, mood, energy etc and don't want to do much at all.
So, the infusion started in the early evening and by night I was getting checked for urine production, as i was falling behind schedule. Couldn't be arsed, leave me alone was my productive thought. The response was to inject a diruretic into my line. It was like dark magic from ancient yore! I felt the rumbling approaching. Stomach to brain, erm, sir, I think we have a situation. Bladder here, I have incoming! It took about a minute before I had to slide my butt out of bed, grab a nasty cardboard hospital piss pot and unleash. Unleash it did. Only just got the next pot in place before reaching the top. Good skills prevailed though. Back into bed after. Now, trying to donate to the pot a little sooner. All was ok until the the pee monitor arrived looking worried again. Quotas not reached. We know what happens when quotas are not reached. Brace yourself bladder outer defenses have failed.
I got through my 24 hour infusion, but in this time being stuck in bed, there was a certain other body function that had been neglected but was not about to be forgotten. My second line was removed and I could be vaguely mobile. I stood up and the alarm went off. This is a 5 second bowel unload warning. All other protocols are disregarded. 5..4..3..2.. I hobbled like the wind, dragging my other attached drip with me. Thankfully all attrocities were averted.
Being bed bound so long and received big dose steroids has meant my legs have become pathetic and like chicken legs. Walking ceased to be the natural talent I've had for many years and became a new skill to learn. Very perturbing. Slowly lowering yourself out of bed onto swollen feet that look like skiddoos. Then wobbling left and right to get balance, then performing the nursing home hustle, throwing one disobedient leg forward then the next. This wouldnt be so bad, but I had a cough. This cough began when I changed position radically and each burst got worse until I started to gag and finally be sick. So, I had to time my expeditions so that I could be back and still before hitting the gag zone.
The cough has lessened right off, but still loiters a bit. My right arm is still swollen and red but not as bad as it was. I was sleeping with it suspended in a sling in an attempt to help drain fluid away. Stupid fluid.
There's more, but this post is too long already. I will hang fire, reload some vitriol and engage again later, may be mentioning some of the good points (there have been good points, e.g. my boss visiting with loads of home made brownies and more importantly getting a sneaky 3G dongle to me so I can get online, yay, online again)

Oh Crap! Bad News!

Well, I went in to see the consultant today. I was pretty anxious, as I've been noticing dodgy little symptoms, similar to what I had at first diagnosis. Shortly after going in he told me that the news wasn't good and that the scan showed that the tumour had been growing again. The bastard! Why can't it just die!
Anyway, this means it's plan B (sadly there are no plans C or D, so plan B better work!). This involves going into hospital (where I'm heading shortly), where I'll get a line put in (a tube in a vein) (which I'd been hoping to avoid). Then there will be a 3 day chemo infusion. This regimen is called RICE. My last one was CHOP-R. Then it's 3 weeks off, then back for another RICEing, then 3 weeks off. Then there is a scan. If the tumour has shrunk, it is on to step 2. If it hasn't then...oops, sorry, we're out of ideas. Bye. Don't like the sound of that much, so lets assume it works. Next is a loads of injects to get the body producing extra stem cells which can then be collected. In to hospital then for 4 days of hardcore chemo. This one will blast away my poor immune system and bone marrow that would regenerate it. Hopefully it will also nuke any remaining tumour. Then the previously collected cells are returned and they magically recreate a brand new shiny immune system. Hoorah. Apparently the success rate isn't amazing but it's not rubbish either, but I need to talk to the big man total specialist dude to get those details. So, the boring journey continues. Not sure when I can post again, as hospital beckons.

Last Treatment

Yay! Yay! and thrice, yay! My final treatment (a non chemo one at that) was on Friday just gone, so I have finished my primary treatment. Lordy, it's been a long old slog. Now it's scanxiety time. I've got a CT scan on August 18th. They expect, due to the type of cancer I've had, that there will be tissue remaining, i.e. scar tissue, etc. So as long as it hasn't got any bigger, this scan won't be too exciting. Then, a few weeks later I'll be lined up for a PET scan. This scan is a bit more interesting. You drink a drink containing a form of glucose with a radioactive fluorine isotope attached. Sound fun? Basically any living cells, especially naughty cancer ones, will eat the glucose and so drawing in the isotope. What does this mean? Well, it is a way to check whether the blob that remains of the tumour is alive (bad news) or dead (yay! champagne for all!). So the PET scan is the kiddie that I'm waiting for, as it will tell me whether I'm done and normality can start to return or whether it's time for the next batch of treatment (noooo!).

Right now though, I've got a couple of infections and feel absolutely knackered, despite having 11 hours sleep! Apparently I have an e.coli infection and a suspected CDIF infection. Sounds a laugh. I'm got a new load of anti-biotics to take. One has the aftertaste of a chalk coated rabbit turd (not that I've tasted that many chalk coated rabbit turds, but it's what I'd imagine they'd taste like). Worst of all though and this increases my belief that there is a world conspiracy to stop me drinking any beer, is that there is a big warning on the anti-biotic bottle to "NOT DRINK ANY ALCOHOL". Boo! Another 10 days of no beer. So near and yet so far!

Tired

Tired seems to be the name of the game this week. It is the week after chemo, so tireness is usually on the cards, it's just that this week especially I've had trouble hauling my lilly white ass out of bed. The worst part is that my wife has been ill too. I know she was properly ill because she didn't go into work and that never happens. She will drag herself into work if her legs were on fire!
So, that meant between us we had to get the kids ready for school etc and dropped off when all we wanted to do was roll over and sleep. Then, when they got home, the same thing applied. They wanted to play and we wanted to find a small hole to crawl into and sleep!
I'm noticing today, I feel slightly more energised and my wife is back at work (coughing and spluttering though). Roll on the next few days as my body rediscovers feeling awake and active (please)

TGI Friday?

It's Friday and it's nearly 4.30. I went to hospital for 9.30, joined the queue for blood letting. I then waited. Waited a bit more and finally did a bit of waiting. Was then invited in to be drained of the beautiful red life sustaining fluid known as blood. I sat in the chair (imagine an electric chair, but without the wiring. Oh and they don't strap you in. At least, I've not seen it happen) and they fastened on a little strap at the top of my arm and pulled it tight. Then they prod your arm, hunting down the most juicy looking veins. Recently, it has taken them a few goes to get all the blood they needed out of my dried up leather veins, that is, they have had to go prospecting, drilling in extra holes and looking for blood. Not fun. I mentioned this to my current vampire, I mean blood letter and she said, "yes, some of the nurses have difficulty finding good veins but we are too well trained for that. We wouldn't need to go in 3 times". She laughed, I guess amused at the nurse's lack of blood letting skills. This time I thought I was in luck, as the first blood container started to fill up, but then it sputtered to a stop. Oh no, I thought, not again. She withdrew the needle slightly, rooted around for the vein. Ow. She poked and rooted, then tried rooting and poking but to no avail. She look at bit sheepish and explained that she'd need to try again on the other arm. Well, at least two attempts is better than three. I'm happy to have one less hole poked in me. She moved the tourniquet to my other arm, poked some veins, found one that was a bit tender and jammed the spike in. I winced a little bit and she raised a professional eyebrow at the wussbag sat in the chair. The next container filled up, she unplugged it and plugged in the final one and....doh! the blood flow stopped. Stupid veins, I cursed. I didn't want a third spiking, but it was looking like one was in the mail and heading my way. She laughed awkwardly and went into root and poke mode again. Apparently, she hadn't learnt yet that when one of my veins says "no" it means "no". She did the poke and root routine a few times, to my discomfort, finally giving up, smiling unconvincingly and announcing/muttering that she had better find another vein. Whoopee! Third time better be a charm! She found another vein, with her supervisor looking over her shoulder, nodding and pointing and having the occasional vein prod too. "This looks like a good one", she stated and without so much as a "sharp scratch coming" announcement, she rammed home number three. Resulting blood flow: nada, zilch, nil. I started to giggle. I got a dark look. I carried on giggling. She rooted and prodded and thankfully, this time the root/prod method brough home the bacon. The last container filled up and I got a third bit of cotton wool and sticky tape slapped over the new hole. She quickly slipped away with the blood containers and I headed out.

Next, I had to wait around until the blood tests were completed. This takes about an hour. Not sure if it really takes that long or if the blood test people are in cahoots with the car parking people and get a cut of the extra hours car park fee. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but those blood testers all drive Jags and wear hefty Rolexes, so who knows.
When hanging around, waiting in hospital, there are loads of fun things to do. You can see how many people there are that look worse that you do. That can be fun. You can see if you can find the oldest edition of Home and Garden magazine in the pile available to read or just simply sit and make random grunts and squeals and see how many people you can get to move away.
After an hour or grunting and squealing, a nurse ambled by and whispered a list of mispronounced names. Thankfully, mine is quite hard to mispronounced (although she did try, bless her). I followed her, to another queue and was shortly invited in. There I was given some more tablet, but thankfully told that I don't need to keep injecting myself with Fragmin. Yay!

I forgot to mention that I was in hospital on Wednesday too. Tuesday night I was feeling unwell (again) and my temperature was high (38). I theory I should have gone in to A&E that night but being a belligerent git and having not long escaped from hospital and feeling not too bad, I decided I'd go in the morning, unless I got worse. Typically, my wife was away on a course and my little one decided to try and fall out of bed in the night and to wake up later after having a nightmare and be a bit freaked out and crazy. Basically, I didn't sleep too well. Anyhoo, my temp wasn't too bad and I was alriht dropping the kids off to school and child minder. I then zoomed over to the ma-in-laws and she dropped me at hospital. There, I, guess what, that's right, had a blood test (which took two people and three attempts) and then got to loiter and wait around for an hour, see a doctor, get a prescription for some GCSF (as my neutrophil count was below 1) pre-filled injections (so I can do it myself), wait 40 minutes at pharmacy whilst they took the box out of the fridge (or whatever they do) and then got home in the afternoon.

Anyway, Wednesday aside, back to today. As I had been coughing (and still am) they sent me for a chest xray (all clear, no problems), saw my bone marrow was lobbing out lots of immature neutophils, so my counts should be going up and was allowed to stop those injections too. Hooray, no injections for a week or so. I've also noticed that my blood clot symptoms have almost gone. My arm is no longer swollen, my hand doesn't look like a boxing glove and the veins on my chest and neck have subsided a fair bit (although they are still a bit prominent). All good signs.

So, on to next week. I'm back in work on monday, although I have to go via the hospital and give them some blood. Hopefully they get it first go. Wednesday is another blood test and then Friday is chemo number 8, the last one! Oh, preceeded by a blood test, of course.
So, once chemo 8 is out the way, I then get to wait until I feel improved and there will be a scan. This is where the anxiety or scanxiety will kick in. These are the scans that will show that either a) I can rejoin the ranks of the healthy, once again free to mock the afflicted and laugh in the face of danger or b) nope, sorry buddy, primary treatment hasn't killed the critter dead, so it's on to the harsher stuff. Brace yourself Mildred, this may sting a little. So, even though it's a good few weeks away, I can feel the vague hintings of scanxiety a tap, tap, tapping at my door.

A less whingy post next time, I promise!

Sat in the sun

Hi. It's a lovely day here. The sun is shining and I'm sitting outside (in the shade, as I burn like a petrol soaked rag right now). I thought rather than type a load of stuff, I'd post up a vid instead. I must admit when I played it back, I scared myself with my double chin. Where did that come from? I never had one of those before! I blame the steroids again (poor old steroids, get quite a rap from me).

..and on the 3rd day, he got up

Well, after 3 days pretty much stuck in bed, I'm back and feeling more alive.
Looks like the effects of chemo are somewhat cumulative with me. Some people get away with it and some don't, then again, some are hit really hard, so I still think I'm pretty lucky.
I got chemo #6 on Friday and after getting the pre-meds for the Rituximab, I was dozing off and feeling a bit sicky. I'll tell you the worst thing. Around midday they bring out these snack boxes. Little cardboard packs with a sandwich, crisps, a drink, etc in. Nice idea. Sadly, I've developed an association to them and feeling sick (I'm not alone either, a few people I've talked to can't look at them without wanting to gag). So, beware. If you're getting chemo'ed, you can build a mental link to things. Urgh! Just thinking of the snack box now makes me want to hurl. Think of something else, think of something else... erm... Lost. Yeah, it was the end of the season finale last night. I hauled myself out of bed around 7pm, spent a bit of time around the kids and then watched Lost. I must admit, I liked it. A little saggy in parts but cool in others. Gradually things are being revealed, but enough is left submerged to keep me interested. Ooh, but I did like the end of episode cliff hanger. Ooh, yeah!
Anyway, back to the job at hand. Chemo 6 was a pain in the butt. So glad to only have 2 left. Can't wait to be done. Looking forward to being normal again! Assuming of course, the visitor that has been residing in my chest and round abouts has got the good sense to leave totally and never return. I'm working with the assumption that he realises he is not welcome and it's time to move on and judging by the response, that seems to be pretty reasonable. Still, waiting for the scan results after my last treatment cycle is going to feel like being one of the competitors on one of the reality shows awaiting their fate (winner or evictee) stood their during the extended pause after the host has said "and the winner is...".

A quick mention about CHOP-R (the chemo regimen I'm on). I have been asked if it is a one hit deal or whether you keep getting extras throughout the cycle. Well, a chemo cycle for CHOP, for me, goes a little something like this:
Day 1: You turn up, they plug you in and load you. Then release you back into the wild
Day 10: Go to hospital and give some blood
Day 19: Go to hospital and give more blood. Man, they like the blood
Day 21: Rinse, wash and repeat cycle.

So, there is only one day when you're dosed up, after that its recovery time. I know there are different regimes, where you go in as an in-patient or go and get loaded up for several hours and then get sent home with a chemo pump attached that continues loading you for upto 48 hours, but CHOP aint like that. I hope that helps.

Oh yeah, jumping around again. The last cycle I was given a set of 3 injections to boost my immune system. Basically they cause my bone marrow to get busy and start pumping out the good guys (white blood cells, Neutrophils specifically), to do honourable battle with any invading scum bacteria. In the words of king Leonidas of the Spartans, in the 300, "Neutrophils, prepare for glory!".
Anyway, it looks like this will now become a regular occurrence for me (At least for these last 3 cycles) as my poor wussy bone marrow keeps getting totally nuked by the chemo and taking too long to generate new fighters and needs a little help. Ah, poor chicken. The plus side is that this should mean that I will avoid getting any more nasty infections they lay me up feeling like doom and gloom and also that I get to meet more of the local district nurses who have really impressed me with their friendliness, caring and passion for their work. A great bunch.

Almost forgot to mention (blimey, this post is getting a bit big), that I saw the new Indiana Jones on Thursday night. Hmmm, what to say. It was Indy, so deserves some respect just for that, but, in my opinion, it wasn't a patch on the other films. A little too much trying to fill in back story and I reached the limit of suspension of disbelief way before the group fell off 3 massive waterfalls one after another, landing completely unaffected. Yes, I know it's fantasy and I know it's Indiana Jones, but I either need long enough gaps between impossible events to forget about them or a few less in order to keep my disbelief suspended. I think I preferred Iron man.

Two days good, one day bad

How bizarre this chemo thing is. After getting loaded up on Friday and then just wanting to sleep, Saturday and Sunday weren't bad. I was up and about at a decent hour, feeling not bad. I went to my wife's Granddad's birthday celebration and was sorely tempted to have a beer (although I was well behaved and didn't, for the sake of my overworked liver and kidney (although next week is another thing entirely)), so I must have been feeling pretty good.
Then, I wake up this morning and all I want to do is go back to sleep (nothing really new there, except I wanted to go back to sleep 'cus I was feeling rubbish). My head was banging and my energy was through the floor. Curiouser and curiouser, said I.
Anyway, I've dragged myself out of my pit and am sat downstairs, with the glorious weather beaming in through the windows and lightening my mood.

Vanquishing the chest monster

Yesterday was chemo day 5. That's over halfway through, hurrah! Prior to receiving those pretty coloured poisons, known as chemo, I got to see some more details of the scan I had the previous Friday. The measurements have been done and I got to see the before and after pics.
So, the before picture showed the right side of my chest filled with a nasty big blob, aka the chest monster. If left to its own devices, I reckon it would have emerged alien style, a few months later and gone on to consume all before it. Luckily, it was discovered before then and after 4 chemo sessions it has shrunk down. The original beastie measured 10cm by 12cm. Explains why it was making me try and cough my lungs out and why my face and neck were trying to swell up. Now, the current measurements are 9cm by 3cm. So, it is still 9cm long, as it runs from my throat area down into the chest area, but it is only 3 cm wide. On the scan it is hard to see, which is cool. The doc said they have a system of rating the response to chemo. The top rating is exceptional, which is what the doc said applied to my chest monster, henceforth known as the weenie chest squatter (eviction notice being filed).
Chemo 5 went ok. The only difference to the others was that I was dozing off towards the end and was really tired for the rest of the day, or rather, when I got home I went to bed and slept till late evening.

Today I woke up feeling pretty tired, but after I had my meds and the steroids had chance to kick in, I was feeling alright and was up and about. The weather outside is lovely and I'm hoping to fire up the BBQ later, assuming the energy levels hold up. Yay! First bar-bee of the year!

Tuesday, wrote Mr. Kipling

The weekend went well and I was feeling pretty good. Despite finishing the anti-biotics, I still have a barking cought, but I suspect that it is caused by my unwelcome chest resident. It has calmed down a bit today but over the weekend I was doing some serious coughing (to the point of gagging, which was nice).
I intended to go into work today but not feeling top form. I will definitely go in tomorrow, come hell or high water (or whatever the expression is).
Next chemo is this coming friday. I'll be over the halfway mark and on the home straight. I really can't wait for this to be done with (as long as the cancer is dead and gone, that is). I'm looking forward to rejoining the ranks of the healthy (even though I've still got 4 chemos to go).
PS. BTW, no idea why I mentioned Mr. Kipling in this post's title, but he does make exceedingly good cakes.

Chemo #4

Well, number 4 is out the way. That's the half way point. I've been told that I'll be getting a scan before the next cycle, which is cool. Be good to see how things are going.
It's Monday and the weekend went pretty well. I don't feel too bad. So much better than the last cycle. Last time I had this annoying headache thing going on, but this time it's all been good. I've felt tired but not too bad. In the evening, I sometimes felt a bit sicky but they extended the length of my primary anti-sickness tablets, which seem to have done the trick.

Pia-pia-piano

It's been a little while since I last posted and it's back to blood test time again.

This week, I've been into work, which is quite weird after being stuck at home. Good to see everyone and good to feel like a normal person again!

I've been thinking about how quickly time seems to fly by. I mean, it only seems like 5 minutes ago that I made my last post, but it is over a week. On friday is chemo number 4. I'll be half way through. Hard to believe. So, in light of how quickly time passes, it got me thinking about all the things I want or wanted to do and have never got around to. One of those is learning to play a musical instrument. Something I've intended to do since I was in my teens and "never found the time to do". So, I've started taking piano lessons. I've had 2 so far and am enjoying it. I wondered, if the teacher is only used to teaching kids, then when I get a note right, I might get a gold star and a lollipop. Sadly, not the case.

Chemo #3

Chemo #3 went down okay. It took a lot less time than before. The Rituximab took 2 hours to go in and the actual chemo was about an hour and a half. Unfortunately, it was really busy at the day unit, so I didn't get to see my usual consultant and had to see a stand in doctor. I went through to see him but he had his face glued to my notes and other than the few words he spoke when he made brief eye contact he spent the rest of the time mainly scribling away in silence. Kind of rubbish. He asked a few bland questions, misanswered a few of mine (i.e. gave me answers that I had to query until he answered them properly or I gave up), also he seemed to have had a major, successful, personality bypass operation. He made me think of a very dull version of John Major!

(a pic of John oozing his usual charismatic presence)

I had to nick name this consultant character, Doctor Charisma. This name got back to my normal consultant who was suitably amused. We then had a quick chat about some discoveries regarding statins and Rituximab (don't ask, I'm just interested in all the technicalities and new discoveries) and then I was good to go home.

During my time there, I spoke to a couple of other fellow Lymphoma friday participants and eaves dropped on another. The main thing was that I was a lot better off that some of the others there. One guy, a 37 year old bloke, had Lymphoma in his bone marrow and pretty much everywhere, another was recently diagnosed, with a delay of several weeks due to a bit of a botch up by an ENT consultant and had Lymphoma in his abdomen, neck and all over. Not nice.

I confirmation from Doc Charisma, that the nodes in my neck are now gone (oh yes! Be seeing you, losers!) and that the discharge notes from my time at Hotel Torbay (the Torbay hospital I ended up in over easter), confirmed that my chest mass had shrunk from 10cm to 5cm, which has me a very happy chappie.

Dr. C did not mention my scan at the end of cycle 3 and I forgot to ask (my head was a bit buzzy with pre-meds though), so I've emailled my normal consultant "The Moule-meister" (he is called Dr. Moule and is very good) and hopefully he can cofirm the details.

Post chemo #2

So, a few days since my last post. Just felt knackered and couldn't be bothered to fire up the laptop. Feel somewhat more human today.

Chemo day went ok. I had my first infusion of Rituximab, which meant I was due a long day. I got there around 8.30 and they dosed me up with paracetamol, periton and some steroids, ready for the R. After 3 goes to get the needle in my hand properly (one came out, one missed and one was a bit leaky. Great), the Rituximab infusion started real slow and all went pretty well. As the infusion rate was speeded up (every 30 minutes) I started to go blotchy and they stopped and loaded me up again with periton and steroids and then kicked off again. During this time I had my check in with the doc and found my marker levels were normal but my white count was pretty low (but ok to continue). Last week it had been nuked and the two blood tests I had (post chemo and pre chemo) had it around the 1.0 mark, so it would have dropped between those days, but I don't know where to.

Weekend:
The saturday and sunday had me totally fatigued and with a headache. I felt like I was hung over but uber tired. I didnt leave my bed very much.

Monday-Tuesday:
Tired, tired and more tired. Really felt fatigued. On the plus side, the nodes in my neck started to become sore on monday and by wednesday had pretty much melted away! Yay! One down, one to go.

Wednesday-Thursday:
Same as monday and tuesday, but at night it was a bit crazy. I just couldn't sleep. Mad, fast thoughts running through my head, just like being a kid on Christmas eve! I reckon it was my body adjusting to the steroids withdrawl and sending me through the roof. I had to get up to pee every hour or so and then drink a load of water again. Mouth so dry. This dry mouth thing is eating my teeth up though. Lots of new cavities coming to town. Stupid cancer.

Friday (today):
I feel almost human again. Somewhat tired but not unmanageable, I don't want to stay in bed. My weight is down, so looks like its eatsville time.

Chemo day

Friday is Lymphoma day apparently. At the Eden unit, at Wexham park hospital, where I'm going, the Lymphoma chemo is given on fridays.
So, I turned up, had a good long chat to the consultant, where he went into the intimate detail that I wanted. I wanted to know what each of the chemo agents were, how they worked on a cellular level (I'm just a bit of a propeller head), what the side effects were short term and long term, especially for any alkylating agents used (ones that smash DNA about and can lead to secondary cancers in later life). It was a good session and one that let me see that my consultant knew what he was talking about and gave me a good level of trust in him. His name is Simon Moule and so far I rate the guy!
So, I was taken back into the ward, given a big fat arm chair to sit in. My arm was heated up, using a wheat filled head sleeve. This was to make sure all the veins are nice and dilated. Then a line was put into my hand and a saline flow attached. After this the first of the bad boys was brought out. Doxorubicin, a red coloured liquid, arriving in two syringes (that can cause heart damage, nice). My nurse, Becky, took it real slow, making sure that there was no pain and that the drug fed into the vein okay and there was no leakage, as apparently even though they pour this stuff in your vein, if you get it on your skin it can do so much damage that plastic surgery is required. Crazy!
Anyway, after one syringe of the lovely stuff had gone in, they didn't like the look of the line and put another one in on the other hand (and apologised profusely as they did). So, in goes syringe 2 and all was fine.
Some lunch then arrived, which I snacked on whilst the Vincristine (sounds like a dutch monk to me) fed in. This sucker can cause nerve damage, which you notice initially as tingling/pins and needles in your fingers and toes. In it went anyway.
Then, finally, the one I wanted the least, the Cyclophosphamide, was plugged into the drip. This is the monkey that can cause secondary cancers later on. Didn't like that much, but I need it now to kick some Lymphoma ass, so that'll have to do.
So, the drugs were in, which took a couple of hours and then I was waiting around for about 4 more. I had signed up to a clinical trial of CHOP14 V CHOP21 and needed to know which group I would be in (ended up in the control group, CHOP21, boo!) and then needed to wait for my medications to be prepared.
I ended up leaving with a big ol' carrier bag full of meds. I'm normally the sort of person who won't even take a pain killer for a headache unless it is really bad and now here I am with a handful of drugs to take each morning. Still, most of them are protective, e.g. anti-sickness, anti-viral, stomach acid reducing (to protect against the steroids, etc) and also one to help mop up all the dead Lymhoma crap that should start being shed as the drugs do their thing. So, all in all, it went pretty well. I left the ward feeling a bit tired and just wanted to get home, but felt that things were moving forward.