Chemo Day 1

The Bles Infusion Room at Georgetown Hospital is brand new. There are nice warm wood floors and windows that let in some beams of light into the space. I show up early with Jim at 8:30am and check in at the front desk. I don’t have to change into a hospital gown like I did for surgery, and I don’t settle into a hospital bed. After about 30 minutes they whisk me back to Bay #9. The “Bay’s” are semi private seating areas that you can close off with a curtain for more privacy. There is a lazy boy type chair and a couple of chairs for guests/nurses to sit. I was glad I brought a nicely bleached blanket to cover the chair and my own small pillow and throw (This is one of the times in life that you are supposed to be a germaphobe, the nurses told me to!) There is a flat screen TV, which old people like to listen to at high volume in neighboring bays (I might add “head phones” to the suggestion box). All in all the space is new, clean and bright.

In addition to being assigned a “Bay,” you are assigned a nurse for the day. It started off a little rocky with my nurse Sue, when she came to get my IV inserted, and whoops, went “clear through the vein.” I looked over and saw a blood soaked towel under my arm. Wholly shit, I started feeling twinkly and dizzy and my arms went kind of numb. I turned away and reclined my chair back some more. Sue was quiet and she seemed like she was new and a little nervous herself. She wasn’t talking and when she was trying to get the bleeding to stop, she called out nervously for help from another nurse (this did not put me at ease). I wondered if she knew what she was doing. It turns out, as the day went on, Sue was great, she offered tons of info, albeit tons of scary info, but she was very competent and friendly. In fact, all the nurses worked together to make sure everything was taken care of. I did make the decision to go with Georgetown because of the quality of the nursing staff, and I do feel like I made the right decision.

Sue hooked me up with a plethora of anti-nausea IV’s and a Benadryl IV for about 30 minutes of pre-medication. Jim had a big client meeting and needed to leave after the pre-meds were administered. I came with a team of people (identifying myself as a first timer in the infusion room), so my parents were there with me and stayed with me through the rest of the treatment. I said goodbye to Jim and his eyes looked sad to me.

Sue double checked my name and birthday against the first chemotherapy drug called Taxotere (good idea, you definitely don’t want to get the wrong chemo by accident). Sue handed me some information on the drugs I would be receiving. The Taxotere ingredients actually look rather benign. It almost sounds like chemotherapy that Whole Foods might produce. Taxotere belongs to a class of chemotherapy drugs called plant alkaloids. The alkaloids are made from the periwinkle plant, the bark of the Pacific Yew tree (taxus),  the May apple plant and the Asian “Happy Tree.” Good times right? I am anxious as the liquid begins to drip into my veins. There is the risk that your body might reject the medication in a severe way, and you won’t know until you give it a try and see what happens. Drip, drip, drip…in it goes…2 and a half hours later the bag is drained into my system, I can’t really explain what it feels like, but it is weird. The good news is that I didn’t have a major allergic reaction. The second drug they hooked up is called Cyclophosphamide. This one sounds more sinister, as it is derived from mustard gas, but the risks of allergic reaction are lower than with the Taxotere. This one makes me congested, so they slow the drip.

My mom and I watch an episode of Project Runway to pass the time. My mind is kind of numb. I know my parents are in agony seeing me hooked up to the chemotherapy and I hate this. We send my dad to the Apple store for Skull Candy ear buds. I know it’s really nice out, so I am hoping he has a nice walk and gets some good fresh air. A guy walks around with bagged lunches for the patients and I force myself to eat a turkey sandwich. I am in and out of the bathroom a bunch of times and am really careful not to touch anything or let any of my IV wires touch anything. I glance around at the other bays when I get up and I notice a pregnant woman getting chemo! What the! Arg! My heart sinks. I also notice an elderly woman who is there with her husband, her face is so pained and sad. I tried to smile at her, but she looked vacant. I don’t know how the nurses stay so upbeat, it is really amazing.

More time passes, the Cyclophosphamide is finally drained. I tell Sue the bag is empty. Well, that’s it. 8 hours later I have put in a full day of work at the Infusion Room. We head home and I am prepped with the 24-hour emergency nurses station number. I must admit, I am kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.