Today was my second chemo treatment. Earlier this week, my bloodwork results cleared me to continue, though my white blood cells had dropped by half. The nurse told me there wasn’t much I could do about it, but I found a video suggesting protein could help support white blood cell levels, so I’m going to give that a try moving forward.
Melissa picked me up again, and we arrived earlier, thankfully beating the worst of the morning traffic. While we waited, we listened to the Ratchet and Respectable podcast, where they were discussing Sean “Diddy” Combs and his recent arrest, indictment, and the fact that he was denied bail. He’s in some seriously hot water. It was an entertaining distraction before heading inside.
Today, I felt better going in—more mentally prepared now that I know what to expect. I’ve been keeping track of my blood pressure all week, and it’s been within a good range. So, if it’s high during the infusion visit, I’ll blame the setting, not my body.
Once we were called back, we got a window seat—though the view was mostly construction, which I guess would be ideal if you’re into that sort of thing. My nurses today were Taylor and Allie. Allie cleaned my port and removed those stubborn sterile strips. I had been told not to take them off myself, but I was convinced I would bleed to death if I tried, so I left them alone. Once that was done, the premeds started. The only one I really feel is the Benadryl. It creeps in slowly, making me sleepy. Unfortunately, that makes me a terrible conversation partner for Melissa, who had settled into her comfy couch spot and was watching The Intern.
Then came the star of the show—Taxol. Not just the medication itself, but the dreaded ice mittens and socks meant to prevent neuropathy. This is always the worst part. My hands and feet were freezing for a solid hour, and all I could think about was how cold I was. Of course, the Benadryl-induced drowsiness didn’t help much since I couldn’t fully drift off with the ice packs on. After the longest hour, the mittens and socks were finally removed, and I started to thaw out. I finished up the last of my meds, Carboplatin, and by 10:15, we were done and heading to the next appointment—my PET scan.
The PET scan process was pretty straightforward. I opted for another IV rather than having them use my power port, which I prefer to avoid. They got me settled in a small room with a recliner, and the Benadryl was still working its magic, making me drowsy. I tried to nap but was interrupted when it was time for the contrast to go into my IV. After that, I had another chance to relax for an hour, so I put on some spa music and drifted off to sleep.
When the hour was up, I was taken to the scan room. I lay down on the bed of the machine, with my arms above my head, as it moved me in and out for about 15 minutes. The scan was over quickly, and by the time I left, I felt good—at least for the remainder of the day. But I know that with chemo, you never quite know what to expect. It’s like living with a mystery that keeps unfolding.
Aside from treatments, I try to keep life as normal as possible, especially for the kids. Chris had an open house block party at school, and I knew I needed to be there. I met with his teachers and let him enjoy the fun with his classmates. They had music, bounce houses, cotton candy, snow cones, popcorn, art stations, and games. There was food—sandwiches and pizza—and the star of the show was the First Coast High School band, dance team, and cheerleaders. I felt well enough to want to dance, but I held back. It was a good night, and I was happy to be a part of it, making sure Chris had fun.
