The day after Christmas, I found myself back at Mayo, ready for Round 2 of Adriamycin and Cytoxan (AC). This time, my family tagged along, turning it into a mini road trip with a dash of emotional support. My daughter bravely joined me in the infusion room and quickly claimed the remote. Her movie picks? A Dog’s Purpose and A Dog’s Journey. Yes, we’ve seen them before, and yes, I knew there’d be tears. I also made sure to give her the full rundown on what to expect in the chemo room to take the fear factor out of it. She handled it like a champ.
Over the past two weeks, I’ve been pleasantly surprised (and suspiciously cautious). When the oncologist and nurse first warned me that AC is more intense than my previous Taxol/Carbo regimen, I mentally prepared myself for the worst. I imagined scenarios worthy of horror movie soundtracks. But guess what? It’s been nearly the opposite!
- No severe diarrhea.
- No feeling like Mike Tyson used me for practice.
- No random electric shocks making me question my sanity.
- And no unshakable, all-over “blah” feeling.
Did I just get lucky, or is this some kind of chemotherapy miracle?
I’ve stayed ahead of nausea by taking meds on time (as if I were training for an Olympic event), and so far, no mouth sores have shown up. The only real concern has been fatigue, but honestly, that’s nothing new at this point. And here’s the kicker: I think my taste buds are making a comeback.
Yes, you heard me right. After months of bland, flavorless meals, food is starting to taste… like food again! It’s like stumbling across a treasure map in the middle of a battlefield and realizing you might actually get some of your stolen items back. I’m still cautious, but that annoying film on my tongue has disappeared, and I’m beginning to taste hints of life in my meals. Come on, taste buds, don’t let me down now!
The Transfusion Drama
Now for the not-so-fun part. My red blood cells took a nosedive to 7.2. Apparently, that’s too low for iron-rich foods to fix before getting hit with another round of AC. Enter: the blood transfusion.
When Nurse Hugghins brought it up, my inner two-year-old threw a full-blown tantrum. (On the outside, though, I was all calm and collected, nodding as if this was no big deal.) I knew I had to agree because winning this battle is my ultimate goal. So, I consented, imagining the transfusion as my corner coach giving me a much-needed boost before heading back into the ring.
They promised it would help with the shortness of breath and the constant freezing cold. (Seriously, I’ve been so cold lately that I feel like a popsicle fresh out of the freezer.) The transfusion took two hours, and by the end of it, I was back in the game.
What’s Next?
After my Dracula session (a.k.a. the transfusion), I made my way to the final stop of the day—the injection. Now, I’m back to waiting and watching. Will AC throw me a curveball, or will I keep coasting through with my new and improved taste buds leading the way?
Stay tuned. This journey isn’t over yet, but I’m feeling ready for whatever’s next, especially if it involves food finally tasting like food again.
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