Bump in the Road (part 6)

My Medical Oncologist, Dr. H, wanted to send me for a couple of tests to confirm a Stage 3a diagnosis and ensure Stage 4 wasn't the reality. I was terrified. No one had mentioned the possibility of Stage 4 cancer. At this time, Stage 4 cancer can't be cured, it can only be managed. Dr. H sent me for a Bone Scan and a CT scan. So 2 days after first meeting Dr. H, and 2 weeks and 2 days after a bilateral mastectomy, we drove an hour away for a Bone Scan at the nearest location that could do it so quickly. A Bone Scan involves injecting a tracing dye, waiting a bit, then returning to be scanned. The wait allows the dye to find any cancer hiding out in your bones and light it up to be picked up on the scan. 3 days later I went for the CT scan of my chest, abdomen & pelvis. That involved drinking a terrible liquid quickly, waiting, then going back for a scan. 

Once results were in that all was clear, 4 days later I went for an Echocardiogram to make sure my heart was strong enough to handle chemotherapy. It was. So surgery to place a port in my chest was scheduled for a couple days later., February 27. The port was placed in my right chest wall and a small incision was also made in my right neck. Whoo boy did that one hurt when I woke up!

Port surgery

March 2, I went for a chemo teach session with the nurse at my oncologist's office. She went through what to expect, how to prepare for each chemo session (lidocaine lotion over the port to reduce pain with access), what medications both prescription and over-the-counter I would need to take & when. It was so much information. I ended up making a medication log to ensure I didn't forget anything important. I also went to the pharmacy to pick up all the prescriptions and buy all the supplements and OTC meds I needed.

March 3, 2020 was my first chemotherapy infusion. 

My husband took me. His plan was to take me to this first infusion, then let a rotation of my friends, mom, and sister take me to these marathon sessions. I'm told it is helpful for the patient to have a supportive person with you for encouragement, distraction, and overall emotional support. I mean, as the patient, I know what is at stake and it was comforting to have people who love me surrounding me as my brain swims with dark thoughts.

At the infusion, it didn't kick off with the chemo drugs immediately. I had to have several pre-meds. Some steroids and some anti-nausea medications. Everything was going smoothly and I was getting my last pre-med. The nurse set up the bag of anti-nausea medicine, a very common drug called Emend, and stepped away to order the chemo to be mixed for me. My husband, at the same time asked if I was OK, and he stepped away to use the restroom. I watched my husband disappear around the corner, the nurse pulled the curtain closed and stepped away.

Let's go!!

Immediately, I didn't feel right. I felt hot and tingly, I couldn't breathe no breath was going in or out. I couldn't talk or yell. I couldn't see as the room started going dark. There I was behind a curtain where no one could see me and no one would be back for a few minutes.

I realized I was about to lose consciousness and the thought rushed into my head to throw myself out of the reclining chair I was in so they might hear me fall. I started pitching forward in my chair as things went dark and suddenly the call button was in my hand. I hadn't been given the call button, I don't recall seeing it at all before that moment. But I managed to press it as I lost consciousness.

When my husband came back from the restroom a minute later, I was surrounded by nurses and aides, they were administering medicines into my IV/port; they had a breathing bag over my face breathing for me; they had a cool, wet cloth over my forehead and there was a lot of commotion & shouting.

I was allergic to the Emend (a common anti-nausea drug) and had experienced anaphylaxis.

They were able to rescue me. They called my doctor who said that, obviously, I wouldn't be getting that anti-nausea drug and I could choose if I wanted to continue with the chemo today or reschedule for another day after all that trauma.

I chose to move ahead. I had already done all the other pre-meds. I was already there. I didn't want to delay. Bring on the red-devil.

Let's still go, but please don't kill me

The rest of the infusion was uneventful. I finished it up and headed home. I didn't feel terrible immediately, but knew it could take a few days before it started affecting me. I was mostly just exhausted from everything that day. By the weekend, I was really tied and felt pretty "punk", not nauseated, but not good. I slept as much as I could.

After getting home from the first infusion, I found out that my husband had called my mom when everything happened at the infusion and she called my group of girlfriends and asked them all to start praying. My dad had been in the cancer center when I was getting my infusion. He was at an appointment with his oncologist (he had leukemia) and as he was there with his doctor, he jumped up and said he had to go - something was wrong with his daughter who was 2 floors below getting her chemotherapy and he needed to get down there to pray for me. No one had called him yet. He didn't have any way to know something was wrong except the Holy Spirit spoke to him. He ran down and stood outside the infusion center praying and a nurse asked him if he needed help. He told her I was in there getting my infusion and something was wrong so he was praying. A few minutes later my mom called him to tell him what was going on and he told her he was already standing outside the doors praying. He already knew. Praise God - He is always watching out for me!