It's quite surreal watching the nurses hook a large bag of toxic chemicals onto the drip stand and connect it to the intravenous line in your arm. The premeds have already been infused and this is the serious stuff. As I watched it slowly moving down the clear tube and into my arm all I could think was that it was going to poison me. The fact that it would (hopefully) kill the cancer cells too didn't rate at this stage. As I watched the chemo drug being fed into my body I became distraught. Being a severe needlephobe I had already taken as much anti-anxiety medication as I could, just to enable them to get the line in. But now my throat was closing up. My heart was pounding and I was shaking uncontrollably. They taped the line down further up my arm to stop me dislodging it by accident. And the tears started. Oh god what am I doing???? Allowing them to poison me!!
Six hours in the chair watching three different chemo drugs go in one after another. One drug so toxic they made me chew on ice cubes while it was infusing to minimize the damage to my mouth. Six hours imagining what damage was being done inside me. Drugs so toxic to my body that I was taking massive doses of steroids to stop me vomiting up my own insides. Steroids so strong that for 4 or 5 days each chemo cycle I couldn't sleep and at times couldn't even sit still. No wonder I still have nightmares about it at times.
And then it's over for today. All the lines are removed and I can go home to my life for the next 3 weeks until the next cycle starts. But my life is different now.
That first treatment was 3 days before Christmas. I hadn't slept the night before the infusion and didn't for 3 more nights afterwards. On day 2 I started to feel nauseous and by Christmas Day I was ready to phone my sister and tell her we couldn't make Christmas lunch at her place. But instead we went and I rested on her lounge instead of at home. At least my husband and son could enjoy the feast she had prepared for everyone. And I enjoyed being with my extended family. But even though I tried a couple of mouthfuls everything tasted like blood, and made my stomach churn. Those people telling me to go home and live my life normally until the next treatment had obviously never had to endure chemotherapy.
On day 13 my hair starts to fall out. By day 16 I have shaved off what little remained. And a couple of weeks later my eyelashes and eyebrows are totally gone too. I think the lack of eyebrows and eyelashes was worse than seeing my bald head. I would look at myself in the mirror and it wasn't me but a cancer patient staring back. I had the rounded "chemo" face from the steroids and even wearing a hat or wig my eyes were naked. I was exposed to the world as being sick. I was no longer "me". I started to avoid going out of the house whenever possible and became fearful of groups of people and public places.
And each cycle the side effects grew worse and recovery time grew longer. It never got easier enduring the infusions either. After 2 cycles they insisted on putting in a permanent line which caused a blood clot to form. That meant 2 needles in the stomach every day until the end of treatment to prevent the clot moving to my heart or lungs and killing me. Because of my fear of needles that nearly undid me. And then after cycle 3 a change of chemo drugs, an allergic reaction and more strong meds to deal with the allergy.
And so it went. And so did almost 12 months of my life. Would I do it again? I hope I never have to deal with that question but I seriously doubt it. The unknown was frightening enough but knowing what's ahead ... I'm not sure I could sign up for that willingly.
