May Contain Nuts

I woke up early, had a shower, and sat on the side of the bed and cried. Why am I having to go through this? Why me?  I don’t think I have the strength to do it. Everyone has been messaging me, and I just want to run away and hide and say – no, you’ve got it all wrong, I am not strong enough to do this – but I can’t as I MUST do this to get better. It’s amazing how a hidden, painless lump will now cause me months of being pumped with poison and changing my body. 

I got dressed and Simon drove me to the hospital. Just as we were arriving in the car park, my brother called. I couldn’t answer his call; it was making me cry just seeing his name on my phone. Then a minute later Hannah messaged saying that she was sorry she couldn’t call, and she loves me and she’s so proud of me. I had to put my phone in my bag and try ignoring everything. 

We walked towards the chemo unit and there was a big sign saying patients only. Simon gave me a kiss, and I walked through on my own.  

The receptionists were lovely, very helpful and they told me to take a seat, and I would be called through. I got my phone out to reply to Hannah and I started crying again. Two lovely women came and sat next to me and helped to calm me down. I said I was ok but a bit emotional after receiving a message from my daughter. I said to this lady who is a stranger to me – how can my daughter be so lovely to me? – to which the random stranger said – I know, what a bitch being so nice!  

These two lovely ladies sat and talked to me and gave me advice on things to eat and drink, and just generally made me feel better about starting the treatment. They both said that they always make the side effects sound so scary, but they do it so that you keep looking after yourself. Plus, anything that does seem wrong, always tell them. Then one of the ladies started talking about the staff and how lovely they are, and she said if you hear squeaky shoes then that will be Megan. Both the ladies were called through before me and I sat there waiting. 

When I was collected from reception, I was walked into Bay 4 and given the last chair in there. I didn’t want to talk to anyone as I was still struggling to process what was going on, but thankfully everyone in there was reading or doing crosswords or on their phones. Six chairs in the Bay, with two men and four women in there. I was weighed and then fitted with a cannula in my right hand. I had a bit of a panic as the nurse was putting it in. I got a bit hot and dizzy and had to ask if the chair could be reclined. I don’t think it was the needle that did it, I think it was the fact that this is the treatment starting that caused it. My pulse was quite high, but they said that was expected that as it’s my first time here. Temperature was done and then they came round and put me on a flush/saline drip which I didn’t feel at all.  

They explained to me that the immunotherapy would start first, followed by the chemotherapy. I don’t need to wear the cold cap for immunotherapy, but it will need to be fitted at least a half hour before the chemotherapy starts so they will do it during the immunotherapy. I was measured for the right size cap, small was too small, so medium it is. My hair was sprayed with water all over and then conditioner is put on so that the cap doesn’t freeze to the hair itself and it can be slid off afterwards. Once it was turned on, it was quite soothing on my head and helped keep me calm. 

Before any drugs are administered, I am given two anti-sickness tablets, and an antihistamine is administered through the drip. That really knocked me out. I came over very dizzy and tired and struggled to keep my eyes open. Which was then difficult as Bev the lunch lady then came round with the sandwiches. I was advised by the ladies this morning to choose a sandwich that you don’t mind never eating again. That way, if I am ill, I won’t worry about bringing it up, but mainly because I will associate that sandwich with chemotherapy and it may not bring happy memories to me. Cheese and pickle sandwiches were chosen, with a jelly for afterwards. I did try to eat it but had to stop and close my eyes for a while. 

Immunotherapy finished, I was then attached to a flush which I think had the steroids in it. I did wake up a bit after that and managed to finish off my sandwich. Then came a big bag of chemotherapy which they said would take an hour and a half to slowly drip into me. It is done slow at first, then every half an hour a timer goes off and they will alter the speed it goes in. I didn’t feel anything as it was going in, so all was well with the cannula. A few times they had to come over and raised up the drip bar as my small veins needed more gravity to get it in quicker. 

Finally, after what seemed like an age, the bag was finished, and I was given another flush before the last small chemotherapy bag (only half an hour for this one) was added to the drip collection. Just after 4:15pm, my treatment was all finished. But the cold cap wasn’t, and I had to sit for a further hour and a half with it on my head, whilst my cannula was taken out and my take home tablets were given to me in a big green bag, with a needle container. And as they went through the bag, there they were, five large needles that I will need to inject into myself starting Saturday for five days. I am NOT looking forward to doing that. 

Cap was removed; hair was towel dried and bags were picked up and I left the chemotherapy unit to find Simon waiting in the car just opposite the door. Sick bucket was in the back seat just in case. 

I got home safely, lay down on the sofa and just didn’t know what to do with myself. I think it was more tiredness and shell-shock really.  

Was it as bad as I thought it would be? No. 

Was it a scary thought that I must continue to go in there every Thursday for the next twelve weeks? Absolutely. 

Am I looking forward to finding out what the side effects are? No. 

I don’t think my life will be the same again for a long while.