Chemo III

January 31, 2020February 1, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 3 Comments

It feels like Saturday. We both have the day off today so I can receive my third round of chemotherapy. It’s been three weeks since the last one and I still have a sore spot on my abdomen from the last anti-nausea shot. It’s a small price to pay for stopping the substantial side effects.

My wife and I went out for dinner last night (Thursday) and enjoyed an extraordinary Italian meal at Ristorante Farfalla in Estero.

The restaurant is white-tablecloth-and-candles-reservation-please kind of place. After being seated the maitre d’ very politely asked me to remove my hat. My wife quickly explained the chemo hair loss and it keeps his head warm. He acquiesced and soon they adjusted the thermostat.

Pirates be not allowed in this here fine eatin’ establishment.

Yesterday I went to two different locations to pick up the anti nausea pills and prednisone. Then I hastily planted flowers and spread mulch in the front yard because I had the energy and I won’t for the next few days. Now to pack my chemo day bag: Bottles of water, snacks, book, hat, Kindle, tissues.

It seems like 90% of my head hair has fallen out. Some wispy survivors are clinging on. I went to the dermatologist this week to address lots of sore, red spots on my newly emerging scalp. “Folliculitis” is common in men who wear hats or in some people after shaving. In my case it’s caused by damaged hair follicles and a side effect of corticosteroids. Antibiotic cream is helping. I had hoped for a Mr. Clean kind of scalp but not for now. The hats stay on.

She also froze my nose: Every couple of years she sprays liquid nitrogen on the bridge of my nose to remove precancerous tissue.

My facial hair has also thinned significantly. I’ve been warned not to shave with a razor with blades to avoid cuts. Electric razor only.

A Good Week

January 27, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 2 Comments

It seems like everything has stabilized: Appetite, blood pressure, energy level, sleep pattern. I feel fairly good. My response to the question of How you Doing? is “Better than yesterday”.

I’m mid way into chemotherapy. I’ve had two doses out of four and the third will be this Friday. I’ve wondered if they get better or worse. Worse makes sense. More cell-killing medicines pumped into my veins every three weeks, then my body reacting. The last one took about a week until I had good energy level. I get a little dizzy just tying my shoes. That’s been the biggest adjustment-feeling drained.

My wife and I are usually polar opposites on weekends. She likes to unplug, unwind, sleep in, relax, chill, etc. I can hardly wait to get out of bed and do things; gardening, woodworking, home improvements, wash the vehicles, check off some chores at the church, etc. But since chemotherapy I have not had any energy for physically demanding work. So now I read, watch TV, sit at the computer like now and do a few household chores.

Our teenage son has become more helpful. If I can pry him away from the computer screen I point him at a chore and direct him. He did a fine job helping my wife spread frost fabric over all the vegetable plants last week.

Mackintosh apple pie with a few blueberries.

Yesterday was pretty good. Church in the morning, then I made a pot of chili from scratch and an apple pie. I started a woodworking project but stopped after 20 minutes because I needed paint. All that appeals to my need for activity and the desire to accomplish something while not working up a sweat.

Speaking of food. I feel a little guilty. I have not lost one pound…yet. I actually looked forward to shedding maybe 10 pounds but thank God I have not had any side effects that cause weight loss. I’m eating healthier, drinking more water, eating a lot more fruits and vegetables, less salt and less junk food. All cravings for Twinkies and Doritos are gone.

My taste buds are only slightly affected. It’s as if I just gargled with baking soda water. So when I eat something it tastes a little off at first, but not bad. My wife said the pie tastes great. Now I’m satisfied.

Sleep

January 18, 2020February 4, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 2 Comments

Have you ever drunk one gallon of water in one day? Sure, you landscapers, gardeners, exercisers are used to hydrating to compensate for perspiration loss. So you drink a lot of water. And you seldom visit the restroom.

Since chemotherapy started I no longer garden or do physically demanding things, but I still have to drink one gallon of water every day. It helps flush out the chemo…often. Day and night.

Now I’m used to the rhythm of nocturnal bathroom visits: Every two hours. Bed at 9:00 PM, up at 11:00 and 1:00 and 3:00 or 4:00 (now), and finally up at 6:00.

Chemo has irritated the lining of my nose and mouth, slightly. Like a mild head cold. Both nostrils work on and off, partially, making my mouth do all the breathing work. So when I wake up my mouth is as dry as sandpaper. Drink more water. Repeat soon.

Relief

January 17, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 1 Comment

For the last six days I thought I was teetering between having a stroke or a heart attack. I was wrong.

The last round of chemo caused my blood pressure to elevate. I will not mention my specific BP’s or heart rate because everyone has their own baseline. But we have a blood pressure cuff and I’ve been monitoring it every couple of hours and tracking it.

Recently my blood pressure rises then some tightness in my chest. My family doctor gave me a number to be concerned about and I hit it every day. Then I would take a nitroglycerin pill that immediately dropped it by 30 points. I doubted that this should be a daily event.

Today I went to my family doctor to address the issue. I showed them my records and symptoms and the attending nurse asked “Why didn’t you call 911?” They immediately gave me an EKG that came out normal. After a pow-wow they realized this might not be a heart problem. Now to the expert.

Finally, to resolve the issue, I went to a cardiologist this afternoon. I could not believe a busy specialist suddenly had time for a new patient. After reviewing the tests done in the cardiolab, he gave me solid information and sound advice. The numbers my doctor gave me were over-cautious. Everyone’s BP changes through the day. My variable blood pressure can be higher and is acceptable to all of us. The discomfort in my chest is not heart-related, it’s just chemo damage. Put the nitro back on the shelf. Rest easy. This too shall pass.

Who Cares II

January 15, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 2 Comments

My last entry was unclear. After I posted “Who Cares?” my wife asked me if I was OK? “It sounds kind of depressing.” I knew then that I blew it. Now to clarify.

One sign of a manipulating martyr is when they moan “No one cares for me!” to see who runs and responds to their unending woes and needy ego. I’m on to their repellent ways and hope that I did not sound anything like that.

On the contrary, I know who cares and how much and I’m adjusting.

“I got this.” It’s more that a guy-thing, or confession of a control freak, but all my life I’ve tried to be a do-it-yourselfer. If it needs to be fixed- back off, let me at it. If I don’t know how, I’ll read about it, ask around, and try it again. I think I’m being independant, productive, thrifty, creative, useful. But prideful.

Then comes cancer. I can’t fix this. I can’t see it or reach it or remove it. I need help. I surrender to receiving care. Care from physicians and care from others.

This is not passive surrender so I am doing everything I can to follow the doctors advice and avoiding anything that could slow progress.

If I were totally prideful this would be humiliating. But, thank God, I understand what’s happening in my life. I am being pruned. (John 15 but more on that later.)

And the role of family and friends; “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:2 “Love one another” says Jesus in John 13.

Rather than humiliation, this illness, and the response of so many people, is humbling. At first it was awkward and uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of prayers. “Wait, what’s my name doing on that list!?” It has forced me to rest and accept and receive.

So, thank you all for your kind words and thoughts, your encouragement, your prayers. They are all priceless beyond words.

I am in no way depressed or hopeless or even discouraged. I understand chemotherapy is damaging me and I’ll be in rough shape for a few months. But I look forward to April when my hair sprouts back and I can eat bacon again.

Who Cares?

January 14, 2020January 14, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 4 Comments

Usually that question is accompanied by an apathetic shrug, suggesting no one. But that question sums up what the nurse asked me at our first cancer treatment meeting.

“Do you have a support system?”

It was sobering and somewhat embarrassing. Who in my life cares what’s going on? To whom will this matter?

I quickly answered “My family. My church family. And several friends.” Imagining the circle of closeness starting at home, I had to take stock of people in my life who matter, who care.

I didn’t design it this way. Since becoming an independent adult I’ve tried my best to take care of myself and others and not ask for help. There have been times I’ve been in need after some set-backs but they were few and brief. I love paying my debts in full when I can.

But now people are offering help and prayers. I accept. I am overwhelmed by so many encouraging, supporting words from y’all. Thank you. It matters.

Flashing

January 11, 2020January 11, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 6 Comments

After getting two hours of sleep I woke up with a very dry mouth and pounding heart. And a strange little light flashing from an unknown source. Sitting up I drank some water and the light source changed. Going into the bathroom it followed behind me. It’s the electronic patch on the back of my right arm, delivering medicine and slowly strobing to let me know it’s working.

The racing heartbeat is certainly from mountain of med’s coursing through my veins, but mostly the Prednisone, an immunosuppressant. Side effects: loss of appetite, trouble sleeping, etc. After gauging my blood pressure this morning I can see it going down just by drinking more water. The doctor surprised me yesterday saying I must drink at least one gallon a day! Cheers.

Not So Bad

January 10, 2020February 25, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 1 Comment

Done with round two of chemotherapy. It only took 6 hours. There were no surprises, and no allergic reactions like the first time. I ate, I drank, I slept a little (Benadryl nod) and now I feel just a little groggy. They have managed the side effects very well.

Good news: Doctor reviewed today’s blood test and my numbers are better than ever. Red and white blood cell counts are up! My immune system is intact and working. Therefore, no need for the mask…after five days. During that time I’ll be on a steroid that instructs “avoid people with contagious diseases.”

Image result for image robot with ray gun

I got shot by a robot. The last thing they did to me was install a “single shot, on-body injector” on the back of my arm. It’s 2″ x 2″ plastic box stuck on with tape. It lit up, beeped a few times and SNAP, this little needle stabbed me and will remain there for 28 hours, when it slowly releasing medicine tomorrow. This goop is designed to elevate the white blood cell count to prevent infections. It is made from an extract of e-coli!?

Speaking of head-scratching information: My new anti-nausea medication says “It is used to treat anxiety…upset stomach and throwing up..(and) to treat schizophrenia. It may be given to you for other reasons.” Like what, fleas, knobby knees and hiccups in threes? Who said that?

Chemo II

January 10, 2020January 13, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 2 Comments

I’m going in this morning for the second round of chemotherapy. It should be an all-day affair. I have my choice of days to do this but they recommend Fridays so I can rest and recover over the weekend.

Three weeks has passed since the first dose. And, almost to the day, most of my hair has fallen out. It’s as if the hair has died and gradually broken off. Today I look like a cancer victim: patches of hair randomly cling on but are slowly surrendering. I’ve never seen my scalp before. It’s kind of shiny and itchy and feels nude.

I’m nervous about this treatment because the first time I felt strong and healthy. Now I am weaker. I’m assuming I’ll feel the cumulative effects of the various toxins later today.

Good news is, after today, I am half way into the four-dose program. Each one will be three weeks apart.

The day before yesterday I got a second echocardiogram. The first one was two weeks ago in the ER because of high blood pressure. But this one was ordered by the oncologist and was more area-specific. They measured the size of my heart, volume of blood flow, strength of the pumps, direction of flow, and so much more. They want to make sure the chemo does not damage one of the aortas so they’ll be tracking all these stats in the coming months.

Hair Be Gone

January 4, 2020February 27, 2020 ~ Bob Cook ~ 4 Comments

They warned me that chemotherapy will cause hair loss, so I’m prepared for temporary baldness. But nothing has happened for two weeks…until yesterday.

I have thick hair (with a little balding beginning in the back) so this is going to be a mess. Last night in the shower I shampooed and rinsed and noticed, not dozens, but hundreds of hairs on the floor. Then when towel drying, hundreds more came off in the towel! At this rate, in couple of days I’ll be a chrome dome.

What about body hair? I’m not quite Sasquatch but that’s going to make a dramatic cosmetic change…no details offered. (Although as a preview they had to shave various regions of my chest for the port install and electrodes at last week’s cardio-tests. I look like an old teddy bear mauled by the family dog.)

Brother Wayne tells of his sister’s chemo experience. She lost all her hair, including her nose hairs. Imagine their purpose of filtering and protecting, gone.

Maybe all those old-man-ear-hairs will vanish too. But, can I keep my eyebrows?