The Great Chemo Infusion has begun. As I sit here in my comfy hospital bed, blood is going in through one tube, chemo chemicals are going in through another tube.
I wish the damned NFL would start their games at 10 a.m. We sat around til 3 p.m. yesterday waiting for this chemo ritual to start, with no idea of when it would happen, and no football on TV til 1:30. If this keeps up, I may have to move to the West Coast to get a better schedule.
Meanwhile, the platelet count, 5,000 two days ago, has settled back in at 3,000. Nobody seems to know why, so blood was removed to be sent to a special lab for special typing processing.
Me, I'm wondering why we're putting blood in and taking it out at the same time. But, hey, I'm only the patient.
Anyway, the first day of chemo has gone without incident. I've insisted on mega-doses of anti-nausea Zofran, and it seems to be working. I even cut a deal with the night nurse, promising I wouldn't complain or attack her when she woke me up for a 1:30 a.m. dose.
(An aside curiosity: chemo tends to cause diarrhea; Zofran constipates. Which will prevail?)
I think some steroids have been added to the drug mix (I can't keep track of what's being put into me) because my appetite has returned, and I've been typing away all morning. That's okay.
But, let's be real. This is a life-and-death situation. If this nonsense doesn't work—if this drug ritual doesn't put the AML into remission—the alternatives start to become pretty limited. And I'd have to dumb, stupid and in deep denial to be unaware of that. I'm not dwelling on it, mind you, but I'm aware of what's out there and my perspective is changing more and more to the shorter term.
As the old song says, "I gotta get outta this place/If it's the last thing I ever do."
And when I do, I'd better make the most of whatever's coming.
Anyway, here's Penny's literate explanation of what's being done to me.
This induction chemotherapy regimen is known as "7+3" (or "3+7"), because the cytarabine is given as a continuous IV infusion for seven consecutive days while the anthracycline is given for three consecutive days as an "IV push." These drugs are supposed to interfere with the DNA and RNA of the fast reproducing cells and kill them off. Induction chemotherapy is very intense and usually lasts one week, followed by three or more weeks for the patient to recover from the treatment. This is the time when the chance of infection is a real danger.
Danger? I welcome danger! Maybe with a little Valium first...
I wish the damned NFL would start their games at 10 a.m. We sat around til 3 p.m. yesterday waiting for this chemo ritual to start, with no idea of when it would happen, and no football on TV til 1:30. If this keeps up, I may have to move to the West Coast to get a better schedule.
Meanwhile, the platelet count, 5,000 two days ago, has settled back in at 3,000. Nobody seems to know why, so blood was removed to be sent to a special lab for special typing processing.
Me, I'm wondering why we're putting blood in and taking it out at the same time. But, hey, I'm only the patient.
Anyway, the first day of chemo has gone without incident. I've insisted on mega-doses of anti-nausea Zofran, and it seems to be working. I even cut a deal with the night nurse, promising I wouldn't complain or attack her when she woke me up for a 1:30 a.m. dose.
(An aside curiosity: chemo tends to cause diarrhea; Zofran constipates. Which will prevail?)
I think some steroids have been added to the drug mix (I can't keep track of what's being put into me) because my appetite has returned, and I've been typing away all morning. That's okay.
But, let's be real. This is a life-and-death situation. If this nonsense doesn't work—if this drug ritual doesn't put the AML into remission—the alternatives start to become pretty limited. And I'd have to dumb, stupid and in deep denial to be unaware of that. I'm not dwelling on it, mind you, but I'm aware of what's out there and my perspective is changing more and more to the shorter term.
As the old song says, "I gotta get outta this place/If it's the last thing I ever do."
And when I do, I'd better make the most of whatever's coming.
Anyway, here's Penny's literate explanation of what's being done to me.
This induction chemotherapy regimen is known as "7+3" (or "3+7"), because the cytarabine is given as a continuous IV infusion for seven consecutive days while the anthracycline is given for three consecutive days as an "IV push." These drugs are supposed to interfere with the DNA and RNA of the fast reproducing cells and kill them off. Induction chemotherapy is very intense and usually lasts one week, followed by three or more weeks for the patient to recover from the treatment. This is the time when the chance of infection is a real danger.
Danger? I welcome danger! Maybe with a little Valium first...
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Mitch, your commitment to this blog is admirable and inspiring. We're all rootin' for your complete recovery. Hang in there, man.
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