Tuesday 17th May
Went for my third round of Herceptin.
As those of you who have been paying attention will know, the veins in my right arm, even on a good day, are rubbish, the chemo has properly done for them.
The usual procedure is to immerse my arm in a bucket of warm water to bring the veins up. This usually does the trick. However, this time not so much. The nurse tried to put the needle in a vein on the back of my hand, very painful and not successful. At this point I asked how many attempts were allowed, she replied "Two". I did wonder what happened after the second attempt, would I be sent home in disgrace with my pathetic veins and told to do better next time?
The second attempt was in the vein near the base of my thumb. Not so painful but still no joy. I was not sent home in disgrace, instead the nurse disappeared off to get the matron. Interestingly the matron arrived and made straight for me. I am clearly the most problematic patient they have.
The matron peered intently at my hand looking for a suitable vein. Apparently pulsing veins are not suitable as they make the needle "bounce", which I gather is not a good thing. She found another vein in the back of my hand and gave it a go. No good. as she withdrew the needle the vein ballooned rather alarmingly. Nothing to worry about apparently, it's just the blood rushing to the site to help the clotting and because I had a tourniquet on the blood had nowhere else to go.
Attempt number 4, also in the back of my hand, again not successful. The matron put lots of pressure on my swollen vein with a gauze pad and copious quantities of micro-pore.
Attempt number 5, this was done at the top of my lower arm and was thankfully successful.
The matron assured me that the swelling would go down within a day or so (which it has) and that she would have a look at it before I left and bandage it up so I would look like a proper patient!!!
The rest of the session passed uneventfully and very slowly. Lunchtime came and went. I had expected to be out of the hospital in time for lunch. so consequently had not brought anything with me to eat. Fortunately the wife of the man in the chair next to me took pity and very kindly gave me a packet of kettle chips. Manna form heaven!
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
The Calm After The Storm...
Tuesday 26th April
Well my second attempt at Herceptin went without a hitch.
This was down to the three lots of steroids I had to take beforehand, together with the intravenous Piriton (sorts out my hayfever as well!), intravenous hyrdocortisone and a couple of paracetemol for good measure.
So I will now embark on a 6 or 12 month regime of Herceptin (the duration of the course depends on what the clinical trial I am going on decides), and thus reduce of the cancer recurring in 10, 15, 20 years etc. to zilch - hooray!
As a general rule if it is a short post then things must be going well!
Well my second attempt at Herceptin went without a hitch.
This was down to the three lots of steroids I had to take beforehand, together with the intravenous Piriton (sorts out my hayfever as well!), intravenous hyrdocortisone and a couple of paracetemol for good measure.
So I will now embark on a 6 or 12 month regime of Herceptin (the duration of the course depends on what the clinical trial I am going on decides), and thus reduce of the cancer recurring in 10, 15, 20 years etc. to zilch - hooray!
As a general rule if it is a short post then things must be going well!
Sunday, 10 April 2011
Hair Raising...And How!
Saturday 9th April
As you will notice there has been a tremendous gap between this and the last post. This is because, medically speaking little or nothing has happened to me - fortunately.
My hair is starting to grow back everywhere. I thought I had a severe case of raging athletes' foot but it was just the itching from the hair growing back on my toes. Yes I have hairy toes. My arms are similarly afflicted as is the underside of my chin. Strangely my head has not itched at all, nor anywhere else.
Medically, I have had a heart scan and it appears to be working in the manner prescribed.
Yesterday I went back to the chemotherapy unit for my first round of Herceptin.
Herceptin is an antibody which promotes your body to attack the Her2 receptors on the cancer cells, assuming you have Her2 receptive cancer.
Some people have no reaction at all to Herceptin, some people have a mild allergic reaction to Herceptin and very few people have a severe allergic reaction to Herceptin. You can guess which category I fell into!!!
Those people who have a severe allergic reaction usually react very quickly and equally when given anti-allergy medication calm down very quickly as well.
I did neither of these two things.
The administration of the loading does of Herceptin takes about 90 minutes and like "normal" chemotherapy it is given intravenously via a drip.
Well the first hour of my treatment went without incident. I just sat reading my Boris Johnson book.
The weather was lovely and I was sitting near the open window. After a while I felt a little chilly and assumed (incorrectly as it turned out!) that it was because I had been sitting still for over an hour near the open window. The nurse nearest me asked if I was feeling OK. I replied yes but just feeling a little chilly. A few minutes later I was freezing and shaking uncontrollably. Both the nurses appeared at my side to administer intravenous counteractive drugs, namely Piriton and hydrocortisone, as well as a couple of paracetamol.
I was assured I'd be fine in a few minutes.
I was not! I continued to shake uncontrollably and my temperature and blood pressure were all over the place!
The matron arrived! For future reference the arrival of the matron indicates that things are considerably more serious than you would like to imagine!
I am still shaking.
They break open the adrenalin from their crash cart!
I can either have it in my thigh or my arm. I opt for the latter as I am absolutely bursting to go to the loo and I am not sure that the removal of my jeans won't have a catastrophic outcome!
I am put on 100% oxygen. My chest tightens.
I am still shaking.
I am told by the matron that if I am still not calming down after about 5 minutes they will have to give me more adrenalin and call the crash team!
I am still shaking but with occasional lulls.
We compromise and the doctor from the crash team arrives to "chat" to me! (General consensus is that he is very good looking, sadly I surmise that I am undoubtedly old enough to be his mother!).
As a rule the chemotherapy unit don't like calling out the crash team as the crash team have little or no idea about chemotherapy. Straight forward heart attacks they are brilliant with, adverse reactions to chemotherapy they are not!
Gradually my shaking subsides, although I am knackered, both from the shaking and the sides effect of the Piriton. All of this has taken up the time of two nurses, one matron and one crash doctor for the best part of an hour. The consequence of this is that all the other chemo patients have had their treatment delayed during this time. I apologise profusely.
I am then informed that because I have had adrenalin (albeit only one shot) I will have to stay in the hospital for observation for 12 hours. This I do not want.
We come to an arrangement. I have to stay put until 4.30pm (which I would have had to do anyway) and then I can go home on the strict understanding that if I have any sort of dodgy symptom, e.g. tightening of my chest, palpitations etc, I will come straight back to A&E. I am out of there at 4.35pm like a greyhound out of the traps.
The matron contacts my oncologist and she decides that because I took so long before any reaction happened, that it is likely that I will be all right for future doses, however, I will be given all the counteractive drugs beforehand, except the adrenalin.
I have to admit that I am in two minds about this and will be calling the delightful Dr. Denton later this week to discuss whether I really should be continuing with this course of treatment as it is intended basically as a belt and braces option. I'm really not sure that I want to go through the "nearly dying" stuff again.
As you will notice there has been a tremendous gap between this and the last post. This is because, medically speaking little or nothing has happened to me - fortunately.
My hair is starting to grow back everywhere. I thought I had a severe case of raging athletes' foot but it was just the itching from the hair growing back on my toes. Yes I have hairy toes. My arms are similarly afflicted as is the underside of my chin. Strangely my head has not itched at all, nor anywhere else.
Medically, I have had a heart scan and it appears to be working in the manner prescribed.
Yesterday I went back to the chemotherapy unit for my first round of Herceptin.
Herceptin is an antibody which promotes your body to attack the Her2 receptors on the cancer cells, assuming you have Her2 receptive cancer.
Some people have no reaction at all to Herceptin, some people have a mild allergic reaction to Herceptin and very few people have a severe allergic reaction to Herceptin. You can guess which category I fell into!!!
Those people who have a severe allergic reaction usually react very quickly and equally when given anti-allergy medication calm down very quickly as well.
I did neither of these two things.
The administration of the loading does of Herceptin takes about 90 minutes and like "normal" chemotherapy it is given intravenously via a drip.
Well the first hour of my treatment went without incident. I just sat reading my Boris Johnson book.
The weather was lovely and I was sitting near the open window. After a while I felt a little chilly and assumed (incorrectly as it turned out!) that it was because I had been sitting still for over an hour near the open window. The nurse nearest me asked if I was feeling OK. I replied yes but just feeling a little chilly. A few minutes later I was freezing and shaking uncontrollably. Both the nurses appeared at my side to administer intravenous counteractive drugs, namely Piriton and hydrocortisone, as well as a couple of paracetamol.
I was assured I'd be fine in a few minutes.
I was not! I continued to shake uncontrollably and my temperature and blood pressure were all over the place!
The matron arrived! For future reference the arrival of the matron indicates that things are considerably more serious than you would like to imagine!
I am still shaking.
They break open the adrenalin from their crash cart!
I can either have it in my thigh or my arm. I opt for the latter as I am absolutely bursting to go to the loo and I am not sure that the removal of my jeans won't have a catastrophic outcome!
I am put on 100% oxygen. My chest tightens.
I am still shaking.
I am told by the matron that if I am still not calming down after about 5 minutes they will have to give me more adrenalin and call the crash team!
I am still shaking but with occasional lulls.
We compromise and the doctor from the crash team arrives to "chat" to me! (General consensus is that he is very good looking, sadly I surmise that I am undoubtedly old enough to be his mother!).
As a rule the chemotherapy unit don't like calling out the crash team as the crash team have little or no idea about chemotherapy. Straight forward heart attacks they are brilliant with, adverse reactions to chemotherapy they are not!
Gradually my shaking subsides, although I am knackered, both from the shaking and the sides effect of the Piriton. All of this has taken up the time of two nurses, one matron and one crash doctor for the best part of an hour. The consequence of this is that all the other chemo patients have had their treatment delayed during this time. I apologise profusely.
I am then informed that because I have had adrenalin (albeit only one shot) I will have to stay in the hospital for observation for 12 hours. This I do not want.
We come to an arrangement. I have to stay put until 4.30pm (which I would have had to do anyway) and then I can go home on the strict understanding that if I have any sort of dodgy symptom, e.g. tightening of my chest, palpitations etc, I will come straight back to A&E. I am out of there at 4.35pm like a greyhound out of the traps.
The matron contacts my oncologist and she decides that because I took so long before any reaction happened, that it is likely that I will be all right for future doses, however, I will be given all the counteractive drugs beforehand, except the adrenalin.
I have to admit that I am in two minds about this and will be calling the delightful Dr. Denton later this week to discuss whether I really should be continuing with this course of treatment as it is intended basically as a belt and braces option. I'm really not sure that I want to go through the "nearly dying" stuff again.
Thursday, 24 February 2011
What's Really Annoying.
Thursday 24th February
Hannah asked me the other day what were the worst bits about chemo, so here they are.
Throwing up - for obvious reasons
Food tasting like cardboard - this coupled with the vague feeling of nausea makes eating a real chore. Even water tastes slightly muddy. About the only thing that tastes like it should are Honey Nut Cheerios. Fortunately the cardboard taste tends to fade after a couple of weeks.
Madly fluctuating body temperature - I seem to spend my days either freezing, huddled up under a blanket with a hot water bottle, or throwing of clothes, blankets, duvets and the like sweating like the proverbial pig. I never feel comfortable, temperature wise.
Pain - my right arm feels as though it has been passed through a mangle. The pain from collapsing veins is akin to very severe bruising. Currently my wrist feels as is I have sprained is and moving my hand in any direction hurts. Given that I am very right handed, this makes doing every day things much more laborious, even putting washing in the machine hurts.
My body not feeling like my own - I have bitten the inside of my mouth more in the last six months than in the previous six years. I think this is down to the fact that the inside of my mouth, especially my teeth do not feel like I think they used to. This is also linked to the cardboard taste as food does not feel the same in my mouth as it used to. My body also suddenly stops, I can be walking along quite happily and then a sudden and overwhelming wave of fatigue will engulf me. There is nothing I can do to overcome this other than stop.
Dried up mucous membranes - in the morning before I even open my eyes I have to wiggle them around so I can open my eyes without much pain. I have to unstick my tongue and lips from my gums and drink some water to lubricate my throat. I think this lack of moisture may also exacerbate the dry retching as sticking my tongue out more than a couple of millimetres feels the same as sticking your finger down your throat. Also I have noticed that I appear to have been suffering from a mild but chronic nose bleed. I suspect this is because the inside of my nose, which is also now hairless, has so little protection from the elements that it is effectively "chapped".
Generally I feel as though my life and body are not my own. Everything has to take my treatment into account. I realise that this is all for my own benefit but it is a little wearing after a while. I am having a few weeks off from stuff at the hospital, although I have to go for two heart tests to make sure I'm well enough for the next stage of my treatment.
I am really looking forward to the end of my treatment, which entails another 6 to 12 months of intravenous herceptin, if only because I really am totally fed up with people sticking needles in my right arm!
Hannah asked me the other day what were the worst bits about chemo, so here they are.
Throwing up - for obvious reasons
Food tasting like cardboard - this coupled with the vague feeling of nausea makes eating a real chore. Even water tastes slightly muddy. About the only thing that tastes like it should are Honey Nut Cheerios. Fortunately the cardboard taste tends to fade after a couple of weeks.
Madly fluctuating body temperature - I seem to spend my days either freezing, huddled up under a blanket with a hot water bottle, or throwing of clothes, blankets, duvets and the like sweating like the proverbial pig. I never feel comfortable, temperature wise.
Pain - my right arm feels as though it has been passed through a mangle. The pain from collapsing veins is akin to very severe bruising. Currently my wrist feels as is I have sprained is and moving my hand in any direction hurts. Given that I am very right handed, this makes doing every day things much more laborious, even putting washing in the machine hurts.
My body not feeling like my own - I have bitten the inside of my mouth more in the last six months than in the previous six years. I think this is down to the fact that the inside of my mouth, especially my teeth do not feel like I think they used to. This is also linked to the cardboard taste as food does not feel the same in my mouth as it used to. My body also suddenly stops, I can be walking along quite happily and then a sudden and overwhelming wave of fatigue will engulf me. There is nothing I can do to overcome this other than stop.
Dried up mucous membranes - in the morning before I even open my eyes I have to wiggle them around so I can open my eyes without much pain. I have to unstick my tongue and lips from my gums and drink some water to lubricate my throat. I think this lack of moisture may also exacerbate the dry retching as sticking my tongue out more than a couple of millimetres feels the same as sticking your finger down your throat. Also I have noticed that I appear to have been suffering from a mild but chronic nose bleed. I suspect this is because the inside of my nose, which is also now hairless, has so little protection from the elements that it is effectively "chapped".
Generally I feel as though my life and body are not my own. Everything has to take my treatment into account. I realise that this is all for my own benefit but it is a little wearing after a while. I am having a few weeks off from stuff at the hospital, although I have to go for two heart tests to make sure I'm well enough for the next stage of my treatment.
I am really looking forward to the end of my treatment, which entails another 6 to 12 months of intravenous herceptin, if only because I really am totally fed up with people sticking needles in my right arm!
The Morning After The Night Before
Wednesday 16th February
I wake after a fitful night feeling and probably looking like Quasimodo. The pain from my shoulder/neck actually makes walking difficult.
My appointment is at 1pm and as per usual we arrive in plenty of time. I sit and wait fully expecting to have to have another blood test and then be sent home.
The nurse asks to weigh me. This is a good sign. Apparently my neutrophils are up to 2.43 which just goes to show you never can tell!
The session goes off without a hitch although I am generally more concerned about the pain from my shoulder. Then that's it, it's done. No more chemo - EVER!!!
In spite of being given copious quantities of anti-emetics I still throw up a lot.
I also throw up the next morning, which as you can appreciate was really grotty as there was nothing to throw up. I seem to suffer from dry retching more this time than ever before.
The problem with the last chemo is that people seem to think that I am fine immediately, however, it will be a good 3 to 4 weeks before I start feeling normal again and possibly my hair growing back.
I wake after a fitful night feeling and probably looking like Quasimodo. The pain from my shoulder/neck actually makes walking difficult.
My appointment is at 1pm and as per usual we arrive in plenty of time. I sit and wait fully expecting to have to have another blood test and then be sent home.
The nurse asks to weigh me. This is a good sign. Apparently my neutrophils are up to 2.43 which just goes to show you never can tell!
The session goes off without a hitch although I am generally more concerned about the pain from my shoulder. Then that's it, it's done. No more chemo - EVER!!!
In spite of being given copious quantities of anti-emetics I still throw up a lot.
I also throw up the next morning, which as you can appreciate was really grotty as there was nothing to throw up. I seem to suffer from dry retching more this time than ever before.
The problem with the last chemo is that people seem to think that I am fine immediately, however, it will be a good 3 to 4 weeks before I start feeling normal again and possibly my hair growing back.
The End Is Nigh
Tuesday 15th February
Today is the day of the final blood test. The staff at the blood clinic would certainly win awards for getting blood out of a stone, it would certainly be easier than trying to get it out of me!
The squeamish may wish to look away now.
She sticks the very small, baby needle in my arm and pulls on the syringe plunger. (The usual vacuum blood collector things cannot be used as they rely on some internal pressure of which I have none.) Little or no blood comes out, she wiggles the needle around and tries again, a little more blood comes, more wiggling and pulling and little by little enough blood is extracted together with a lot of bubbles!
I am convinced that, given I have spent the last fortnight feeling like death warmed up with a monumental cough and cold, my neutrophils will be too low and I won't be given chemo.
Later that night I am sitting quietly watching the TV when I develop suddenly the worst stiff neck ever. The pain radiates from the back of my left shoulder down my arm up my neck to the back of my head and even gives me a throbbing earache! I don't sleep well that night mainly because of the pain from my shoulder/neck and also because for the first time I am anxious about tomorrow's chemo.
Today is the day of the final blood test. The staff at the blood clinic would certainly win awards for getting blood out of a stone, it would certainly be easier than trying to get it out of me!
The squeamish may wish to look away now.
She sticks the very small, baby needle in my arm and pulls on the syringe plunger. (The usual vacuum blood collector things cannot be used as they rely on some internal pressure of which I have none.) Little or no blood comes out, she wiggles the needle around and tries again, a little more blood comes, more wiggling and pulling and little by little enough blood is extracted together with a lot of bubbles!
I am convinced that, given I have spent the last fortnight feeling like death warmed up with a monumental cough and cold, my neutrophils will be too low and I won't be given chemo.
Later that night I am sitting quietly watching the TV when I develop suddenly the worst stiff neck ever. The pain radiates from the back of my left shoulder down my arm up my neck to the back of my head and even gives me a throbbing earache! I don't sleep well that night mainly because of the pain from my shoulder/neck and also because for the first time I am anxious about tomorrow's chemo.
Monday, 7 February 2011
Machines and Menopause
Monday 7th February
You will note that once again there has been a long gap between postings. This is because firstly, as stated before, chemotherapy is nothing if not monotonous and secondly I have been quite poorly, more of which later.
So the penultimate session. I arrive and there is no one there, the temptation to simply run away was overwhelming, but I didn't.
Previously the chemotherapy is injected into a cannula by the nurse. This time however I was attached to a pump into which the nurse attached the syringes and the pump mixes the drugs with the saline and then pumped it into me.
This had a very pleasant result in that previously when the first few milliliters of the drug were pumped in by the nurse I was overcome by a huge wave of nausea, although I never actually threw up and once the first bit was in the rest went in without any effect. Using the pump I had absolutely no nausea at all, which was nice!
My two days after were spent doing the usual of sleeping, eating and taking various anti-emetics and steroids. In fact I felt so well that on Friday I almost felt as though I could have gone into work. But I quickly dismissed this idea. In general I felt much better than previously although this may have had something to do with the fact that I am now on three different anti-emetics! Unfortunately one of the side effects of anti-emetics is that not only do they stop stuff coming out of the top they also stop stuff coming out of the bottom!!! More dried fruit and psyllium husks! Normal service was resumed within about 4 days!!!
Monday (31st) I started to feel that I was going down with another cold. I wasn't too bothered as the one I had had over Christmas wasn't that bad, however by the evening I was feeling particularly grotty and decided that I wouldn't go to yoga the following day.
Tuesday was spent in bed feeling particularly sorry for myself. By this time I had not slept properly since the previous Tuesday and my throat was beginning to feel as though I had gargled with broken glass and acid. So I spent the whole day wallowing in self-pity and trying to catch up on a little sleep. I reckon that having a minor breakdown once every six months isn't too bad! By Wednesday, whilst my cold wasn't much better my general mental well being was much improved.
On the whole my sleep has been appalling. This is down to several things, my cold, insomnia and the glory which are hot flushes!!! Chemotherapy puts you into the menopause with a vengeance. So far the only symptoms have been the hot flushes. They are however most annoying. I find that I also appear to be suffering from cold flushes. My body temperature is never stable. Whilst cold flushes are much easier to deal with, I just wrap up or snuggle down until they pass, hot flushes are a completely different kettle of fish. My head feels as though a thousand pointy footed ants are marching across my head, and no amount of fanning or removal of clothes alleviates the symptoms. If I am asleep it wakes me up and I have to throw off all the bedclothes and lie spread eagled until it passes and then I feel really cold so I have to throw on all the bedclothes. This can happen up to 3 or 4 times a night so you can see why I haven't been sleeping too well recently. What is possibly the most irritating aspect of hot flushes is that they occur much more frequently during the night than during the day, for every hot flush I have during the day I will have at least three after 8pm, which isn't too bad if I am up and awake but a pain in the proverbial if I am not.
Assuming that my cold does not prevent my next chemotherapy session going ahead as scheduled, you should all hear a very loud sigh of relief on Wednesday 16th February.
You will note that once again there has been a long gap between postings. This is because firstly, as stated before, chemotherapy is nothing if not monotonous and secondly I have been quite poorly, more of which later.
So the penultimate session. I arrive and there is no one there, the temptation to simply run away was overwhelming, but I didn't.
Previously the chemotherapy is injected into a cannula by the nurse. This time however I was attached to a pump into which the nurse attached the syringes and the pump mixes the drugs with the saline and then pumped it into me.
This had a very pleasant result in that previously when the first few milliliters of the drug were pumped in by the nurse I was overcome by a huge wave of nausea, although I never actually threw up and once the first bit was in the rest went in without any effect. Using the pump I had absolutely no nausea at all, which was nice!
My two days after were spent doing the usual of sleeping, eating and taking various anti-emetics and steroids. In fact I felt so well that on Friday I almost felt as though I could have gone into work. But I quickly dismissed this idea. In general I felt much better than previously although this may have had something to do with the fact that I am now on three different anti-emetics! Unfortunately one of the side effects of anti-emetics is that not only do they stop stuff coming out of the top they also stop stuff coming out of the bottom!!! More dried fruit and psyllium husks! Normal service was resumed within about 4 days!!!
Monday (31st) I started to feel that I was going down with another cold. I wasn't too bothered as the one I had had over Christmas wasn't that bad, however by the evening I was feeling particularly grotty and decided that I wouldn't go to yoga the following day.
Tuesday was spent in bed feeling particularly sorry for myself. By this time I had not slept properly since the previous Tuesday and my throat was beginning to feel as though I had gargled with broken glass and acid. So I spent the whole day wallowing in self-pity and trying to catch up on a little sleep. I reckon that having a minor breakdown once every six months isn't too bad! By Wednesday, whilst my cold wasn't much better my general mental well being was much improved.
On the whole my sleep has been appalling. This is down to several things, my cold, insomnia and the glory which are hot flushes!!! Chemotherapy puts you into the menopause with a vengeance. So far the only symptoms have been the hot flushes. They are however most annoying. I find that I also appear to be suffering from cold flushes. My body temperature is never stable. Whilst cold flushes are much easier to deal with, I just wrap up or snuggle down until they pass, hot flushes are a completely different kettle of fish. My head feels as though a thousand pointy footed ants are marching across my head, and no amount of fanning or removal of clothes alleviates the symptoms. If I am asleep it wakes me up and I have to throw off all the bedclothes and lie spread eagled until it passes and then I feel really cold so I have to throw on all the bedclothes. This can happen up to 3 or 4 times a night so you can see why I haven't been sleeping too well recently. What is possibly the most irritating aspect of hot flushes is that they occur much more frequently during the night than during the day, for every hot flush I have during the day I will have at least three after 8pm, which isn't too bad if I am up and awake but a pain in the proverbial if I am not.
Assuming that my cold does not prevent my next chemotherapy session going ahead as scheduled, you should all hear a very loud sigh of relief on Wednesday 16th February.
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