Beginning

Momentum. I have little. I started writing this post a week ago, thinking I would finish it up from the chemo chair last Friday and finally start the blog I’ve been threatening to begin. Friday came and went, as did the rest of the week, and I still don’t have a post, so I’m just making myself do it – kinda like the way I’m making myself eat a bowl of stew right now. I need to do this, even if it doesn’t sound good.

So let me catch you up. Last Friday was my first chemo appointment. It lasted 5 ½ hours – way longer than the 3 they told me to plan for. It didn’t really bother me so much (I had the “comfy” chair, which was better than the little chairs darling daughter and dear husband had to endure, but certainly no La-Z-Boy), but I felt bad for my chemo buddies having to sit through the dripping drugs, one after another. Tedious, but oh well. The day’s potpourri of meds included anti-nausea meds, steroids, and cancer drugs (Taxotere and Cytoxan for you detail-lovin’ folks).

The thing I was most worried about with chemo was what it would be like to have the chemo nurse access my portacath (a port installed in my upper left chest with a catheter that goes in my vein -- all under the skin. This handy device saves the veins in my arms from being subjected to IVs, blood draws, and chemo). Turns out it was a piece of cake. Phew. 

Side effects during the chemo were a headache and some light-headedness, all quite tolerable. So tolerable in fact, that we had a last-minute dinner with the Ms that night.

Saturday included a trip downtown with my dear friend for a haircut and a little shopping (hello cute grey cap). Someone in one of my hair alternatives classes suggested getting a short haircut to try it out (and maybe help transition to the next stage – the bald one). My fabulous stylist and friend gave me a cut to envy! Almost makes me sad to be losing the hair, but really, this is all about better hair, so bring on the hair loss.

By Monday afternoon, the bone achy-ness set it. They give you a drug that makes your bone marrow work overtime to produce white blood cells and can make your bones complain. Mine definitely did, so I shut them up with a little ibuprofen.

All in all, I’m doing fine. I don’t have a lot of energy, and my portacath still feels like an alien force trapped in my chest. Body aches and pains come and go, as does the appetite. On a discomfort scale of 1-10, I spike at about 5 periodically (that’s when I pop the “Vitamin I”), but usually run in the 1-3 range.  I say that’s not bad, not bad at all.

Tomorrow I’m off to get my white blood cells counted to make sure they don’t dip too low. I’ll let you know how it goes….