IV Chemo, First Time

11/22/2022

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I’m sitting at home and we’re waiting to leave. I plan to write my thoughts as I go through today.

If you’re reading this, perhaps you are heading off to do an IV chemo session for the first time.

Nervous? Worried about how it will all work out? Yeah, me too.

Joshua 1:9 states “Have I not commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage. Be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed, for the Lord, thy God is with thee wheresoever thou goest.”

Yeah, it’s tough to not be dismayed at all this. I don’t think I fear death, I fear pain.

Death, to me, is like that trip to a very cool place and you’re leaving soon. The bag is packed (hopefully) and you just go about living your life until the morning you leave, then you’re committed and rush around and hope you did all the right planning.

Except Death, of course, we don’t usually know the date of departure. Still, butterflies in the stomach…

IV Chemo doesn’t seem like such a fun thing. Darling and I read all the side effects and she says ‘Are you sure you want to do this?”

No. Not really, bit I think the only other option is nothing, and I will continue the fight until I’m out of stamina.

So, yeah, I’m nervous.

Here’s irony. I brushed my teeth and my mouth bled this morning. How odd is that?

I’m wearing grey sweatpants and a Sagemont t-shirt and my warm socks. I’ll find my little blanket and wear it like a scarf. I think it’s one we got from a plane flight, because it is blue and very thin, but unfolds enough to cover me.

Plus, I have a thing for scarfs and it’s sort of classy to me. Yeah, those two words don’t really go together - classy, me. <grin>

We’ll leave soon. I’ll add more as things progress.

I have my insurance info and my medicines (to show them).

Ready as I can be, I suppose.

Oh, and this iPad, which also has a couple books to read.

Good to go.

0825

Should I eat? I read we should bring a snack.

A web search found a good little bit of advice about your first trip.

Darling is making me oatmeal. Seems perfect.

0930

The light rain made the drive here like driving through a foggy mist on a barely discernable freeway. Darling is a good driver, so we’re here on time. I changed into blue jeans, which I notice most people here are wearing.

All checked in and waiting in the fourth floor with a lovely view of I-45.

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Still waiting. The number of people here staggers me. There are a few dozen awaiting treatment. Breaks my heart at all the pain.

The chairs are comfy, though. And they have water and snacks. Not bad…so far.

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So, this is how it starts. First, they find a vein. Right arm - fail. Left arm, success on the second try.

About an hour for the precursor meds, including a steroid, which is great since I’m thinking of bulking up.

Now another hour while the docetaxel gets added to my body. They’ll check my vitals, and I’ll add those later.

I’m tired, though.

1330

I just looked at the back of my right hand and my skin looks like crepe paper. When did I get this old?

1400

We’re going home. I’m feeling okay, but I’ll do something different for the next post. I’ll record how I’m feeling for the next 72 hours in my blog and post again on Friday. It takes that long for the docetaxel to get out of my system.

We’ll all have a record of how it goes.

Look for me at the coming of the dawn on the third day…