Second Round of Chemo (Almost)

This photo is of Josh Mulloy and me. Josh was responsible for having shirts printed that say, "I support Ms. Chase in her fight." Students wear them on the day before or the day of chemo day. You'd be surprised how empowering that is--to have so many concerned people sending me strong vibes and support on chemotherapy days.

My second chemo day was a bust. It took about an hour to get a needle into a vein. I have very few visible veins in my arm. (Karen Field suggested we use my foot next time. I have great veins in my foot!)

I was prepared for this treatment. The night before, I took the medication as instructed by my oncologist: Dramamine, Pepcid, and prescribed medication. These drugs were designed to prepare me for the Taxotere and alleviate a further reaction to the drug. (I also took an Ativan for my nerves--and another one in the morning) I was good to go!

The Taxotere drip started, and it wasn't long after that those nasty little spider-like demons skittered across my shoulders, bring with them a burning sensation that made my skin literally shutter. My lips began to burn and shake. As I began to lose the ability to breathe, I looked down at my inflamed hands that had turned an unsual shade--tomato red. I couldn't believe it! I didn't even have a nurse sitting with me this time because I was well armed with drugs to fight off such an attack.

A bit panicky, I told Gary to let down my recliner, to sit me up straight, and to get someone quickly. I was gasping for air. In a flash, the nurses appeared with a doctor and hooked me up to oxygen. I was feeling "normal" relatively quickly. (I am beginning to think that there is nothing "normal" about me.) I asked when we would restart the procedure, and they told me that it wouldn't be today. I needed to be escorted back to the doctor's office to talk with him. My doctor was away at a conference, so I met with another very understanding doctor. He explained that I had had another reaction and that the burn on my hand at the injection site combined with two severe reactions to the Taxotere probably suggest that this medicine is not compatible with my system. He further indicated that I would need to come back on Monday to meet with my doctor prior to my next treatment. He said that I would most likely take my next treatment on that Monday as time was of the essence.

Much to my dismay, I began to cry and, in true teacher fashion, explained (through my sup sups) that next week is final exam week, so I couldn't possibly miss next week. He politely reminded me that we are working to enhance my percentage of survival and that they would see me next Monday. I tried to smile and assured him that I would be there.

I was so frustrated. I wanted for everything to go like clockwork. I wanted each treatment to occur on the planned date. I had lesson plans and a wonderful substitute teacher in place for the right dates. I felt so defeated, like everyting was all messed up. However, my substitute teacher was incredibly flexible and accommodating. I spoke with several of my colleagues/friends and felt instantly better. They assured me that everything will be fine as they are all there for me. No worries. I am, indeed, so lucky.

Speaking of my colleagues/friends, when I arrived home from work on Friday (late--because I was getting my ducks in a row at work), I was greeted with four amazing meals and a gift card indicating that they had been provided by a dear group of my LHS friends. They were from Dream Meals and are freezable and gourmet. Next week when chemo is truly underway, we will eat royally. My friends know my family well. When we experience turmoil, feed us. A little "comfort food" goes a long way.