A tough 2nd chemo...

2 down, 2 to go - but I have to be honest, chemo is tough ~ as much mentally as physically, hence no updates for a week and a half! A question I am often asked is, 'what is chemo like?'. I'll do my best to explain.
Firstly I need to say that everyone reacts differently, so this really is personal to me.
So far, on the day I've gone in for chemo I have felt reasonably well, the first time because I was well recovered from my op, and I was essentially in good health! The second time I had totally recovered from the effects of chemo, however I was still fighting off the cough virus, so wasn't 100%. That said on both occasions I was well.
So, day of chemo you feel well, however I must admit second time around to feeling sick on arrival - anticipation of what is to come. You go into a small bay containing 4 reclining chairs and 3 other patients - all attached to their drips and various drug concoctions. You take your seat, confirm your name and DOB and in put your hand into a container of warm water in preparation for canulation (where they put the main needle into the back of your hand). Eventually the nurse that administering your chemo greets you - you have the same nurse for everything that day (you and several other patients) and finds a vein not previously used and after some discomfort the needle is in and firmly stuck in place. I do not like this bit. I have no problem with needles, but I've never once felt comfortable with one in the back of my hand - it always catches or hurts (mental note to self: do not wear jeans next time, makes going to the loo a difficult experience due to needle in right hand).
Anyway, the cold cap then goes on - definitely more painful second time around due to lack of hair - at this point the ipod goes on and I try to zone out to my yoga music!
20 minutes later, numb from the now -6 equivalent of a cycle helmet filled with freezing tubes on your head, you are now ready for the cocktail of drugs to be syringed into your vein! This is the worst bit, because at that point in time you still feel well, BUT you know as the large red syringe (X2) comes in your direction that it is only a matter of time....
My lovely friends Diane and Lynn kept me company this time and it did make the whole process easier, infact it would've been fine except the first and most poisonous/ dangerous drug damaged my vein, which meant that when the nurse tried to syringe in the second drug my vein and arm went into spasm, this made it a particularly painful and slow experience as she had to keep flushing the vein with saline. By this point you just want it to be over - you know you have one more drug, but this one comes in via the drip - but another 2 hours of the cold cap still yet to pass. Final drug administered and a final flush of saline and all the drugs are on board! The only relief at this point is that the needle in my hand is taken out promptly at my request.
Blankets! Blankets! Blankets! I am now freezing and tired - I recline the chair and try (unsuccessfully) to sleep - I am starting to have that queasy feeling in my stomach by now. Oh, and your sense of smell is heightened to beyond anything I've ever experienced - I can smell the tape they've applied to needle wound, and it is as intense as it is unpleasant.
Count down to cold cap removal, the 2 hours pass fairly quickly, the machine is turned off - 10 minutes more to let my hair unfreeze and I am then able to remove the cap without risk of my hair being iced to it!
Home time. Already feeling slightly unwell, but not too bad. It is a relief to get into the car and return home. I force myself to eat a small dinner, usually jacket potato and chicken and then I go to bed and wait...
It does not take long, it's now about 8pm Wednesday evening - for the next 2 1/2 days I leave this world and enter chemoland... no actual sickness but I feel like I have a sack of stones in my stomach, my thighs turn to jelly - the 5m journey to the bathroom is a long one and my bed is the only place I want to be. My body feels heavy and at times I do not even have the energy to string a sentence together. Then follows the 60 hours of what I call "wake/sleep/wake/sleep" because that's exactly what happens 24/7. Day and night do not exist, I just sleep for an hour, wake for an hour, usually to a hot flush and racing heart - drink my soda water, and when possible force myself to eat very small portions of the equivalent of breakfast/ lunch/ dinner. At night I am only aware of the time by the news updates on BBCNews24 and during the day by the mind numbing array of daytime TV programmes - Homes Under the Hammer; To buy or Not to buy; Loose Women; The Great British Menu and Hell's Kitchen (I am now in love with Marco Pierre White!) and so it continues for the best part of 3 days, and I am pretty much unaware of anything that is happening around me or elsewhere in the world.
At times I cry, I just want the worst to be over and quite simply I do not know what to do with myself - nothing makes it better. Just time. I exist in my mind - my body no longer feels as if it belongs to me.
Finally, sometime on Saturday afternoon I emerge from the confines of my room and make it to the settee, and sleep some more - but I'm up at least!
Things then tend to level out for the next 5 days - don't feel great, still got a queasy feeling in my stomach and energy levels are very low, but I can function more like a human being again - phew! Day 7/8 are mentally my lowest - it's been a long week since chemo and I begin to wonder if it will ever pass this time? I don't want anymore chemo - I just want my life back! ... but on day 9 ( a day later this time) I am again human - the queasiness has passed, I can taste things, I no longer have an intense sense of smell and I feel vaguely normal again! Hurrah! Life is good once more....
I now have a week and a half to enjoy - must avoid coughs, colds etc at all costs so live like a bit of hermit until day 11... time to start planning and get on with the business of living... until the next time - watch this space!
So, all in all not an experience that I ever wish to repeat - role on July when the chemo at least should be over (I swear I will never put myself through this hideousness ever again!).
It's been pretty quiet since chemo, intentionally - I’ve followed advice this time and taken it easy - not even done that much in the garden. I have had visits from my lovely, lovely friend Heidi and it was a pleasure to see all her party photos since I was not well enough to be there in person - Good luck for the marathon on Sunday! It was also lovely to see Tracey - I am now the proud owner of a 'Willow' angel, she is beautiful! And a big thanks to Mia for cleaning my house!
So, there you go. I now intend to enjoy the next 12 days and will keep you posted about what I get up to!
Finally I must say congratulations again and send them half way round the world, to Kari - a mum to be in November - I now have 2 very good reasons to travel to the other side of the world - my oldest friend Sarah in Melbourne is a mum to be too! So that's it, out of all the friends I was at school with I am now the only one that's not a mum. Am I sad? Yes, but here is not the place to go into that - those of you that know me are all very well aware of the reasons in the last 4 1/2 years as to why that is, such is life! But that doesn't take away any of my happiness for my friends, quite the opposite. A precious gift and one that I hope to enjoy too - I will spoil them rotten!
This is a long one; I hope you are still awake! Must go, off to an exhibition at the Mill! (And lunch of course!).
As always, love you lots!