I feel kind of Debbie Downer about all of this right now because I am just not sure about all of this chemo business. It is hard for me to drag my sorry bum over to Princess Margaret for another week of inpatient fun for two reasons (the third I will leave out ... the third being "It makes me feel like shit and I don't wanna have it"). First of all, I don't even have cancer right now. I know, I know; shocking. I am having chemo, so you all thought I was a cancer patient, right? Nope. They took the cancer out. It is gone. I am having what is called adjuvant chemo, better known as "just in case chemo." Chemotherapy destroys all of the rapidly-dividing cells. Cancer cells are rapidly-dividing cells. Oh wait. So are the cells in your mouth, the cells that create hair ... shit. Anyway, the hope is that a course of adjuvant chemo will destroy any potiential rogue cells wandering around in my blood stream. The hope.
The second reason behind my Negative Nelly-ism is that the role of adjuvant chemotherapy in synovial sarcoma remains very controversial. In other words, synovial sarcoma doesn't seem to be terribly chemosensitive. There is little evidence that it makes much a difference in preventing further recurrences at all. This is why my oncologists have held off on it until now. What was the point of putting my body through hell, my heart at risk, lowering my immune system, killing my fertility if it wasn't going to make a difference? That was the philosophy before. Then I had a fourth recurrence. My get out of chemo jail free card ran out. So now I am having six inpatient rounds of doxorubicin and ifosfamide, the standard protocol for soft-tissue sarcomas. So basically, I am having "shot in the dark" chemo. Well, that is how I feel about it anyway.
So there it is ... I don't have cancer, yet I am having chemo. There is no proof that the chemo will make a difference, yet I am having chemo. I have spent the past two weeks battling nausea, fatigue, infection, and mouth ulcers so bad I could not eat or talk. My appetite has gone from non-existent to very selective. I can't go anywhere because I might get sick. If someone I know has even a sniffle, they cannot be around me. I am shedding faster than my dog. Everyone around me is throwing engagement parties, going to auditions, dancing at the bars; I am spending the week at my parents', where my mum takes my temperature every two hours. I am so tired that all I can manage to read is magazines, and I have seen the same Friends episodes twice in one week. And this is round one. You can understand my unwillingless to go back to the short term stay unit at PMH tomorrow. But I have to. For some reason.
Maybe, maybe, maybe ... something's gotta give? Miracle chemo?
Anyhow. Here are some snapshots from round one.
Evil Ifosfomide
The "Red Devil," aka Doxorubicin
Day One: waiting for the Ifosfomide to make me sleepy and barfy.
Day Two: with my nurse, Mylene. Not feeling so fancy anymore, so I ditched the scarf.
Runny tomato sauce with a few chickpeas. This is supposed to be food.
2 comments:
it's been a while since i've seen a good laura rocca pouty picture. i'll be sure to add this one to my collection. (now three large!) i hope you're hanging in there with the chemo. i'll be the first one to cook you a big 12-ounce steak if you decide to join the dark side. don't do it for your health...do it cuz it tastes goooood...
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