Yesterday morning I went back to CHOP to begin a new chemo treatment. Even though the radioactive treatment I received has worked even better than my doctors hoped it would, there is still cancer in my body. It may be the smallest it's been yet, but it's still there, and the doctors hope that by treating it now, we can keep it small and relatively un-harmful, or maybe possibly even shrink it more. While the ultimate hope for any treatment is to shrink the cancer so much as to make it disappear completely, things have always been different for me. That dream is always there, but it's a far, distant dream. The most we usually let ourselves hope for is to keep it small and treat it as a chronic disease; and for the most part, that's what we do.
This new chemotherapy I just started yesterday is part of a Phase II trial study, meaning they've already tested it on some people in Phase I - but not very many. Trial studies are always tricky; they are the most recent breakthroughs in modern medicine, but they're untested. Doctors aren't yet sure of dosages, reactions, or long-term effects. But when you've exhausted all other options, you go to the studies. I've already tried a few different trial studies.
Phase II means that they have a general idea of side effects and the best dosage. Phase II is better to be on than Phase I if you can afford to wait a bit. In the past, I couldn't, so I have been on Phase Is before. Phase II practically seems like a luxury now.
I took my first dose of this new chemo yesterday at about 1:15 pm. The dosage is 4 pills, each a little larger than an average Tylenol capsule. This worried me; I have never been good at taking medication orally, and swallowing pills wasn't even possible until I went to my miracle-worker/acupuncturist more than a year ago. She's done many things I thought were impossible, so it didn't completely surprise me when, after the careful application of a few needles, she was able to get me to be able to swallow pills. Still, I feel more comfortable with smaller pills, so the size of these pills worried me - and they wanted me to take 4 a day? I was nervous. Even my mom looked worried. But, I shouldn't have doubted the abilities of my acupuncturist. My throat was wide enough to get those pills down, one at a time.
Now all I had to worry about was the side effects. As this chemo is truly like the other chemotherapies I've had to have, I would have to be ready for hair loss and blood count drops. For some reason, though, nausea isn't something I have to worry about too much. Thank goodness for small miracles. However, there was one other side effect that many of the patients had to deal with: "euphoria". I couldn't tell whether or not I wanted this side effect! It sounded like an okay one to me! My mom jokingly asked my doctor, "Can I get those for my sons too? It would be nice to have 3 happy teenagers in my house for once! And maybe some for me too?" As it turns out, this chemo is "related" to the medicines Ativan and Valium, which both can be taken as anti-anxiety medications that mellow you out. For some people taking this chemo, they would experience a feeling similar to that of overdosing on Ativan or Valium and feeling really, really loose and "drunk-happy", and it would happen 2-3 hours after taking the pills.
3 hours later, I'm sitting on my couch back at home, and I start to realize that my head is feeling light and my brain isn't focusing on anything much at all. It takes a couple tries for me to reply to questions when asked and, although I don't feel elated or even happy, exactly, I don't feel bad either. I just feel very loose and loopy. It was an extreme chemo brain.
So now, tonight, I'll take my chemo right before I go to bed, so that I can hopefully sleep through my period of mush-brain.
Oh, and I'm pretty much banned from driving for the week.
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