Treatment is imminent

Up to last night, the overnight feeding thing had been going well – I’ve been starting it at around 10pm, with a bag change at around 6am, and ending at 8am. This fits in pretty well, as I’m generally feeling ready for bed at about 9:30pm, and it takes about that long to get things organised. And as I don’t need to be up particularly early most days, being in bed until 8am suits me fine. If I’m awake, it’s good reading time!

Last night was a bit different. I got to sleep OK, but woke up at around 4am and, well,  :sick:  :sick:

Quite thoroughly, in fact, so much so that I decided it would be better to stop the feed for one night, as I needed to get some sleep so I’d be in a reasonable state for today’s appointment. It took a while, but I got back to sleep in the end, and didn’t fully wake up until well after 8am.

That gave me plenty of time[1] to shower, dress and get myself on the bus to Newcastle, which got me there just in time to miss a bus to the Freeman Hospital. But the next one turned up ten minutes later, so that was fine.

I got to the Freeman in plenty of time for my 10:30 appointment, even after walking several miles down the main corridor. Seriously, when did hospitals get so bloody huge? Are they all on steroids or something? Anyway, found the right place, took a seat and was called in by a nurse, who took me through the details of what’s going to be happening.

I’d been given a brief description, but this was in a lot more detail, which I’ll summarise for you.

In each in-patient session, I’ll attend the Freeman and have the traditional needle put in the back of my hand. I’ll then have the first drug injected with a syringe, followed by the second from a drip bag. This will take three hours, possibly longer, depending on how busy the staff are on the day.

I’ll then be sent home with a jumbo bag of medication:

  1. The third chemotherapy drug in tablet form, to be taken morning and evening. These come with dire warnings – they can’t be broken or crumbled and I’m advised to avoid touching them. I’ll be supplied with those little paper pill cups for dispensing them from the blister packs they come in.
  2. Anti-sickness drugs
  3. More anti-sickness drugs

Apparently the combination of anti  :sick: drugs works well for most people.

We also had a talk through the expected side-effects, ranging from tingling, hands and feet going numb, and some less common things. I’ve been given a 24-hour emergency number to call in the event of anything nasty happening.

And one nasty thing that I’m told will indeed happen is the one many people think of when they hear the word chemotherapy, but which doesn’t actually happen to everyone. Well, it does if you’re on the drugs they’ll be using on me. Look, there’s no way around this, I’ll just have to come out and say it:

I’m going to lose my hair

Yeah. Fun. And with the added sensitivity to sunlight[2], I’ll be needing a hat. This might be a problem, as you know how it is with hats: some people can wear them and look cool, but other people just look awkward and silly. And you can guess which category I’m in, can’t you?

I’m thinking of maybe a Panama, or something with a brim. Stay tuned for hat updates…

[1] Not needing to do things like coffee[3] and breakfast saves a lot of time
[2] I just need to check that I didn’t accidentally sign up for vampire therapy….
[3] I miss it, though…

6 thoughts on “Treatment is imminent

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.