Thursday, August 9, 2007

1st Treatment


Ok, so I wasn't really ready for this. I chose Friday's as my treatment days so that I would have the weekend to recover for work on Monday. I have/had every intention of working through this and also not being a complete leach on my family. Even with help (my parents, in-laws and an au pair) raising five kids under the age of 25 months isn't easy. My wife is planning to attend each treatment with me, which is nice, especially after what we saw :)

We got to Winchester Medical Center (where my Oncology Group's office is) around 8:30am on Friday August 3rd. The first thing we do is get my blood drawn from my kick ass port. That reminds me, I didn't tell you about the port. In order to receive treatments, you need to either a) get an iv each time you go, b) get an external port or c) get an out patient operation for an internal port. A is problematic due to chemo destroying your veins. It also means you get stuck each time and you bruise, etc. B means that you have wires sticking out of your chest and this can get in the way and leave you open to infection. C is cool. Check out these links. They cut you open, insert a drum with a membrane for accepting needles in and then fish a tube into your subclavian vein (named so because they are just below your clavicle). It's called a medi-port and it rocks.

So we are getting my blood drawn and this is the first time I see a infusion treatment area. OMG. Due to the logistics of nurse to patient ratios, I understand why this needs to be an "open bay" type area like a prison hospital. But man is it depressing to go in there an see 20+ other people (mostly elderly) going through whatever number treatment they are on. Some have family with them, most don't. The you see the occasional teenager and it just breaks you up inside and makes you wonder about their story. If you ever feel you have it bad, ten minutes here will change your mind.

Not me and my wife Babers McSchlabers. We are like Shecky Greene at the Catskills. Joking around and grab assing the entire time. We get the blood drawn and then go back for a consult with our Oncologist, Dr. Houck (the elder). This man is what everyone would want there grandfather to ever be. Nice, calm, intelligent and caring. He gives us great information, including that piece about being non-symptomatic, and then we head back for treatment. My port is plugged back in and the following occurs:

- Aloxi with an Ativan kicker. These are mostly for nausea (antiemetic) but the Ativan is also primarily a sedative. It wouldn't be until the treatment was over that I could say that they worked.

- Test dose of the "B" in ABVD. Bleomycin can cause allergic reactions so they dump a little into you and wait to see if you get blown out. I didn't, so we proceeded. BTW, you really get "in tune" with your body when someone says, "Let me know if all of a sudden this makes you have trouble breathing or you start feeling like you are on fire". Something tells me I would like to make them aware of that as soon as possible, so all of a sudden I become sensitive to any and all minor changes in temp, light, heart rate and motion. (5-10 mins)

- After every dose of a medication, they flush the port with a drip of a saline solution. (5-10 mins).

- Now we are ready for the deal. The "A" is adriamycin
(which is an antibiotic but also screws with the DNA of CHL tumors). It, like all of these drugs, is a mo-fo. It can cause nausea and will more then likely cause me to lose my hair. It is also the main reason I had to go get a MUGA scan done on my heart prior to starting chemo. Some long term side affects of adriamycin are heart problems. I should get about half the dose cardiologist deem toxic, but the MUGA gives them a baseline prior to treatment and will be reconciled with a post-treatment scan to determine if my ticker is "sucking hind tit" as a result of the "A". It looks like red cool aid and takes about 15-20 mins to pass through my system in the form of urine (now the color of cotton candy).

- Flush and we are now ready for Vincent. Vinblastine is the "V" and it is an anti-miotic which means it keeps cells from growning or something. Read for yourself. This is sweet, in so much that it is a small little dose that is "pushed" and not "dripped". My rocking nurse Kay swings by and plugs a plastic needle deal into the business and then, slowly over three minutes, pushes about 6mg of this stuff. So far, so good and I am not feeling sick, but I am feeling hungry, it's close to noon now.

- My cohort, the afore mentioned Babers, makes a Subway run and returns with my request of a Salami and Cheese sandwich, some Doritos and a Large Diet Coke. Although my taste buds are in the dirt, it hits the spot. Just in time for the "D". Dacarbazine or DTIC is the biggest of the mo-fo's apparently. It's the cytotoxin (or cell killer) that is so potent, they have to dump it into an IV bag of fluids and drip it over a long period of time (1 hour). It is at this point I was advised that THIS is the drug that causes the most nausea. Salami and Dorito's anyone? Although I feel a little rumbling in my tummy, the grub stays down. I could tell that the others in the room were all thinking the same thing....rookie.

- They finally get around to dumping the rest of the "B" back in me and it is a day. It is now 3:30pm and time to go home. I feel a little sick to my stomach, but not barfing. I have peed about eight times and I am a little beat. I feel surprisingly decent and I went home, took a nap and ate normal.

That would be a good sign for the weekend and a good start to this. My crank wasn't in the dirt and I was able to work the next week without issue. I developed some mouth issues that resulted in me having felt like I had just eaten a hot wing ALL THE TIME for three days. But it passed. I also itched like a crackhead in bed one night, benedryl took care of that. Otherwise, treatment #1 is done and I am now caught up to real time with this blog. Here on out, it is live.

BTW, I saw the doctor this morning inre to those mouth issues and the crackhead itching....the tumors in my chest were all over and in one particular spot (behind my left clavicle) on my first visit he could palpate it. I know, because I touched the area and was amazed that I didn't notice it. The spongy stuff wasn't supposed to be there and it wasn't on the other side of my body. Based on the CT and PET scan and by them touching it, they explained that it was the top left portion of the tumor. Today, it wasn't there. It is not uncommon with ABVD for there to be no signs of the cancer by the halfway point in the treatment. They still continue with it, but a midway PET scan is done after 3 sessions (6 visits in total). To have been able to see/feel a change this quick though, was WONDERFUL. Check out my scars:


3 comments:

Jessica said...

I think scars are cool. They make you look dangerous :) And sexy...

katie k-h said...

This is so informative. Is there a way to post it to the American Cancer Society website, or something equivalent to that organization?

You are amazing, and so is your family.

I think about you guys a lot...I'm sure you and Jessica have heard this before, but you should really write a book or something...

Keep the updates coming!

Katie

Marty, a.k.a. canape said...

You're going to have to learn to duck faster from that angry wife, cancer or no cancer.