My mother came with me to my first chemotherapy session. She mostly wanted to come for emotional support, even though she knew I was ok with the chemo. I think I was her emotional support. She also thought I would get ill immediately afterwards, which did not happen.
The room is lined with leather Lazy Boy chairs, 16 in all. They are lined up against the walls of the treatment room. I take my seat in one of the chairs, recline, and get comfortable. The nurse comes and hooks an IV to my PICC line. My mother is sitting in a small chair beside me, having coffee and snacks.
Before we begin, the nurse gives me 5 of one type of pill called _ and one pill called _. These are to prevent the side effects of the chemotherapy from becoming too severe. I take the pills with a glass of water and wait until it’s time to put the chemo cocktail into my tubes. Volunteers come by, offering us juices and snacks.
There are three different drugs that make up my first chemotherapy session. One of them is made up of two huge syringes of bright red drugs. The nurse tells me that this is the chemo drug that makes you lose your hair. It’s quite strong and designed to kill all fast acting cells. That is how it attacks the cancer. It also attacks your white blood cells, as well as your mouth lining and your hair, which are fast acting. She slowly pumps these syringes into my PICC line. It takes over half an hour to get the two syringes in.
The other two chemo drugs are in small bags that are hooked into the IV and just drip through. These get hooked up to my IV one at a time, and I sit there waiting for them to enter my system. I decide to lie back in the recliner and just nap a bit, which is hard with my mother there talking to me.
After chemo is done, we come home, and my mom decides to head back to her place for the night, since I’m not showing any signs of sickness.
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Thursday, 2 June 2011
PICC Insertion (Sept 8 2010)
PICC Insertion, Sept 8, 2010
I go to the hospital in the morning, and am taken to the X-ray department for my PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) insertion. Once there, I put on a hospital Johnny shirt, and lie on a stretcher. Two girls wheel me into an operation room, with a huge ultrasound monitor above the table.
I notice that neither of these girls is wearing any makeup. It must be some type of hospital rule. However, one of the girls has the most impossibly long eyelashes. I ask her what type of mascara she uses, and she tells me that they are eyelash extensions. She had them put on at the aesthetic salon. They last for months. Note to self: once done chemo, get eyelash extensions. So hot.
I’m on the stretcher, and they place my arms out in the crucifixion pose. The nurses, surgeon, and I all wear protective masks. They place an IV into my upper right arm, and give me a local anaesthetic. The surgeon begins to thread a long blue line through the vein in my arm, weaving it in until it reaches the artery near my heart. She showed me the ultrasound, and I could see the end of the PICC line, there above my heart, nestled onscreen between the underwires of my bra.
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I go to the hospital in the morning, and am taken to the X-ray department for my PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) insertion. Once there, I put on a hospital Johnny shirt, and lie on a stretcher. Two girls wheel me into an operation room, with a huge ultrasound monitor above the table.
I notice that neither of these girls is wearing any makeup. It must be some type of hospital rule. However, one of the girls has the most impossibly long eyelashes. I ask her what type of mascara she uses, and she tells me that they are eyelash extensions. She had them put on at the aesthetic salon. They last for months. Note to self: once done chemo, get eyelash extensions. So hot.
I’m on the stretcher, and they place my arms out in the crucifixion pose. The nurses, surgeon, and I all wear protective masks. They place an IV into my upper right arm, and give me a local anaesthetic. The surgeon begins to thread a long blue line through the vein in my arm, weaving it in until it reaches the artery near my heart. She showed me the ultrasound, and I could see the end of the PICC line, there above my heart, nestled onscreen between the underwires of my bra.
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ChemoSexy - One girl's journey through chemotherapy and beyond
I have been a frightened child. I have been a spoiled brat. I have been abused. I have been a teenage mother. I have been a working mother. I have been a welfare mother. I have been depressed. I have been suicidal. What I was is not necessarily what I am now.
I am a cancer survivor. I am a fighter. I am a single mother. I am a sister, a daughter, an auntie, and a friend. I am the first university graduate in my family. I am bi-sexual. I am a military supporter. I am silly, goofy, introverted, exhibitionistic, on medication, and so many other things. I am breaking a pattern. Most of all I am hopeful.
Why should you read my journal on chemotherapy and life after breast cancer? I will give you a few reasons. First of all, if you have or have had cancer, I hope my journal will help you know what to expect, as well as maybe make you laugh and realize that it’s not all bad. Secondly, even if you don’t have cancer, I hope that my journal will show you that even when situations are tough, you can always choose to be tougher. Happiness is a choice, not a set of circumstances.
Sometimes the world we live in can suck, but life itself is always entirely awesome. Enjoy it!
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I am a cancer survivor. I am a fighter. I am a single mother. I am a sister, a daughter, an auntie, and a friend. I am the first university graduate in my family. I am bi-sexual. I am a military supporter. I am silly, goofy, introverted, exhibitionistic, on medication, and so many other things. I am breaking a pattern. Most of all I am hopeful.
Why should you read my journal on chemotherapy and life after breast cancer? I will give you a few reasons. First of all, if you have or have had cancer, I hope my journal will help you know what to expect, as well as maybe make you laugh and realize that it’s not all bad. Secondly, even if you don’t have cancer, I hope that my journal will show you that even when situations are tough, you can always choose to be tougher. Happiness is a choice, not a set of circumstances.
Sometimes the world we live in can suck, but life itself is always entirely awesome. Enjoy it!
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Follow @StArRmAcAwEsOmE
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