Chemo, round one, day one

I’m home! Today I faced with an almost surreal sense of calm, actually. We began the day at the NZ Cancer Society offices where they offer free car parking, low-cost massages, tea and coffee and snacks and so many other benefits, all these volunteers helping to make the lives of cancer patients a little easier each time they visit the hospital. As the receptionist showed me around, I felt tears of gratitude prick my eyes.

It turned out that the thing I was most worried about was the result of the chest x-ray and liver and kidney scans.  Once I found out those were ok, and the infections under my breast were treatable and the chemo was going ahead, I was then somehow totally relaxed. They offered me an anti-anxiety drug and I turned it down.

The nurses at the chemo room were great, and as they explained the rare but seriously dangerous potential reaction I might have to the medication, they outlined the steps they’d take to protect me from that. People get reactions similar to anaphylactic shock and without fast treatment, can die. So she laid out her medication—just in case—and stood by to see if I would need it. Most reactions come in the first 10 minutes so she was going to be very close to me for that long.

My reaction—tightening of chest, flush, very slight difficulty breathing—was lightning fast. It happened with 1.2mls of the drug in my veins. I asked casually, “Is this slight tightening of the chest normal?” and the nurse flew into action, stopping the chemo, calling out to her colleagues, and rushing to get the antihistamines into my veins. Within seconds there were four nurses around me, taking my blood pressure, injecting new drugs into my IV, and monitoring my reactions. The symptoms never got more severe, and quickly went away.

The next step surprised me. They waited 30 minutes and then went to “rechallenge” me—by giving me the chemo drug again. They said now the reaction would be calmed down. Made me nervous though—R watched my heart rate change as the nurse came back for the “rechallenge.” But when I said, “Let me know when you’re ready,” the nurse told me I had been hooked up for 3 minutes already. No reaction. Phew.

Other than that, it was a mellow and easy experience. Even that was just 5 minutes of carefully orchestrated speed and then a settling back into the pattern. I was deeply impressed and unendingly grateful about the quality of the care. Naomi, Michael, and R were always an arm's length away and as I listened to my chemo meditation, Naomi held my hand.

And now I am home in the slanting evening sunlight. It has been a spectacularly beautiful day. I have been surrounded by people I love. I am so far tired and a little dizzy (the reaction to the medication to stop the allergic reaction, not to the chemo) and otherwise ok. All day I have been moved by the waves of love that have been rolling in through texts and emails and facebook. I am buoyed by your support and love and feel grateful to live in this country with these companions and all of you at this poignant moment in my life. Know that today, in my sense of calm even inside the emergency, it was all the hands holding me from all around the world that kept me calm and happy—and it was the excellent nurses that kept me healthy and breathing.