Bum Briefing #2

Well my first chemo treatment is in the books. I’d like to say it went splendidly, but I don’t think the words splendid and chemotherapy are typically used in the same sentence.

I’ll start with the preparation for the first chemo session. I did a lot of reading and talking to survivors; it made me wonder how my appetite and taste for foods would change. My doctors also told me that during chemo treatment, this is a big concern, and I should focus on eating whatever I want, when I want, and when I can. Calories are calories when it’s hard to eat. Of course you know what I did with that information, that one conversation undid years of programming about vegetables from my beautiful wife. I went straight to Costco like a high sixteen year old with my parents credit card. That 5lbs box of mozzarella sticks I’ve avoided for years from will power? Yep, bought those. Same with the 5lbs of pizza rolls, haven’t had those since college. They burn my mouth the same now as they did then.

Now when Beth asks me what I’d like to snack on, it makes her feel like we’re running a Bubba Gump Shrimp spinoff that is composed solely of crackers. We got Saltine Crackers, Ritz Crackers, Peanut Butter Crackers, Graham Crackers, Animal Crackers, Goldfish Crackers….

The Friday before my first treatment I went in for the tattoo session of my tumor as well as the biopsy for the cancer research project. Unfortunately the Doctor was not confident in her tattoo ability and wouldn’t be able to put a heart with “MOM” on it. Sorry Mom. This was the start of what ended up being my personal hell with IV’s. They could not get the IV in on Friday, took two nurses multiple attempts to get it in. The same went for Monday for my port placement, two nurses and three tries to get it in. For those of you who know me, know I have a debilitating phobia of needles and my own blood. As of right now the worst pain I’ve had, was those two sessions and to top it off I look like a heroin addict with all the holes in my arms.

Getting the port installed enlightened me into what is the organized chaos large hospitals are. I counted seven nurses and a surgeon that took part in this 20-30 minute procedure. One nurse’s sole job was just to wheel me down from the third floor procedure room down to the first floor chemo room. Never saw the man before or after that trip. I guess they all have their assigned duties and do them well, with the exception being the IV nurses, I have a feeling part of the problem might be me (which is also Beth’s hypothesis). I will say that everyone instills confidence in their ability to do their task. Right before they did the port, the nurse told me they do them all day long, usually about five a day. It definitely made me feel better than if he said they just looked it up on YouTube.

When they came to give us the take home chemo kit it really started to sink it just what chemotherapy drugs are. They gave us a “spill kit” which can only be described as a personal hazmat suit. Luckily the take home pump is a single use self sealed system, they said rarely has the take home spill kit ever been used. That made us think that it might be better served as protection for our Costco trips from the contagion infested customers.

The take home chemo comes in a lemon-looking ball, it’s literally a lemon color and shaped balloon that they fill with chemo and slowly deflates over the 46 hour treatment. It’s nice that it’s silent and fairly easy to move around. It does come in a stylish ‘80s fanny pack that we’re thinking of upgrading. Any ideas are appreciated.

As far as side effects, I had it pretty minimal the first round. Even though the effects are cumulative over the full span, I’m encouraged that I didn’t experience any of the major symptoms the medical team was worried about. Let’s hope it continues. As of right now I’m feeling back to normal, the only pain is my port area, which is still bruised.

The cycle starts up again on Monday. We really appreciate everyone’s continued support. We want to thank all the people who have shipped us gifts, everything from “Cancer Sucks” t-shirts, to mugs, to key lime pie, chemo care packages and chimichurri seasoning. Sometimes the things don’t have a notification of who it’s from… so thank you to all the secret Santa’s out there. Life Pro Tip, if you shipped us anything, double check the shipping address on the next order.