This is at my first chemo; the red line is fluid going IN, not out. I think by the next treatment, I'll be sans hair... 

Fatigue

fa·tigue n.

1. Physical or mental weariness resulting from exertion.
2. Something, such as tiring effort or activity, that causes weariness: the fatigue of a long hike.
3. Physiology. The decreased capacity or complete inability of an organism, an organ, or a part to function normally because of excessive stimulation or prolonged exertion.

I think the definition of fatigue is interesting. All of the above relate to activity or exertion causing the fatigue…sort of that “wear and tear” idea. I can honestly say that I haven’t done any activities or exerted myself lately. In fact since Monday, I’ve been barely able to put a run of 5 minutes together on my feet. I’ve managed to teach my class twice, and I’ve made it into work for a few hours at a time. But seriously—I’m not even sure I can put into words how it feels…this thing they call fatigue.

I know tired—I’m an Ultimate player. I’ve pulled all-nighters, I’ve had runs of sleepless nights because of work…but this is crazy. It’s the weakness that one feels post-fever, but without the aches that come with a fever. And when my body is really trying to shut me down, it actually cries from the inside. I can feel my inner being (whether that means my cells/tissues or whether that means my soul, I don’t know) yelling at me. I get breathless just trying to have a conversation.

Sleep helps, most definitely, although it’s not always easy to fall asleep. My MIND knows that I’ve had “enough” sleep, so it doesn’t want to shut down. But my body has its own mind for now. And I have to say that really pisses me off. I know it’s a control thing, and all along I have been trying to control this—at least how I handle THIS. I have to give up some of the control right now, or at least I have to find a different way to take control. This week, I took control by deciding that I couldn’t go on a trip to California for work. I hated having to admit that. At the beginning of the week, I figured each day would get better. Perhaps each day has, but I can’t tell that yet. So instead, I’m staying put. I’ll do what I can with each day, I’ll hang out with friends, perhaps I’ll try and enjoy a good cup of coffee (I have been missing that). And I’ll spend some time telling my inner self that it’s fine to be angry at me—I’m angry at it too. Perhaps we can come to an agreement to fix the situation.

Dr. Poison

I actually called my chemo doc that at my first appointment with him. What else can he do to me? His name is actually Sanjay Yadav. He’s a really nice guy—very genuine, very concerned, and very informative. He has already given me his cell phone number—to use even when he is NOT the doc on call. He laughed at my 3-ring binder. Yeah, I put together a binder with all sorts of information. Cancer stuff, medication information, insurance papers, etc…it’s my style I guess—to have this on hand. He saw me showing it to Walker at my first treatment. He giggled at me from across the room.

So the first chemo treatment…I was there about 4 hours…they say it won’t always take that long, but since it was my first, they wanted to be sure I handled the process OK. I guess I did—I drove home after (with Walker in the car). She was a trooper. We sat among 10-12 other chairs…not all filled. But those that were filled were occupied with women all probably over the age of 60. They sort of looked at me funny—in the sense that “hey, she’s too young for this.” Perhaps in some way they were thinking that “she’s young enough to do this.” There was one other new patient there. She had a little breakdown when she realized she needed all of the prescriptions filled BEFORE starting that day (and she was already hooked up). But the nurses rounded up the meds she needed to get by until she got hers filled. I wanted to give her a hug and tell her everything was going to be OK. The woman next to her (Norma Jean) was starting her 2nd 12 weeks of treatment. She was filled with advice, but also chatted at length about the bad stuff that can happen after treatment. I almost asked her to stop, but I guess it’s good to know the good and the bad.

The procedure itself was pretty uneventful. I had my laptop with me (all of the ladies there were rather taken aback by that), and Walker had reading material. They basically plug the tubes into the port and start pushing fluids. They give 2 different kinds of anti-nausea/vomiting meds first, along with one of the oral pills I have to take for those first 3 days of treatment. Then the 3 different drugs (fluorouracil, epirubicin, and cytoxan—and yes, I can pronounce all of them) are administered—each separately. The first 2 are “pushed”—the nurse has to use a syringe to get them into through the port. The last one is an IV drip. So by the end, I felt as though my eyeballs were going to pop out from all of the fluids.

They also push you to drink a ton of fluids—it helps with the cleansing part, which minimizes the potential side effects. I haven’t felt too many—I was nauseous that first night, but I was also in a car that I was not driving (ie. motion sickness evil). But since then, I’ve just had raging heart-burn and the fatigue part has set in (hey, you chose to read this). Unfortunately it’s not the fun fatigue—the drop on the couch and go to dreamland kind. It’s just more like recovering from the flu—low energy. But my appetite has been good (and steroid aided), and I am getting good sleep. The drugs they give for the first 3 days after treatment have to be amazing. They have kept me going and strong so far. I’m still going to have to deal with some stuff, but at least it’s not the vision of 20 years ago. And I am beginning to crave much healthier things. I haven’t had coffee in 4 days and I am loving a glass of juice in the morning. Might not seem like a lot, but for me, that’s all good stuff.

I go for my first blood draw tomorrow—a couple of days early since I have to travel for work. Hopefully the blood count will stay high and I’ll stay free of infection so the next treatment won’t have to be postponed. Dr. Poison is doing his magic—I can feel it happening.