Chemo 2 is in the books

Yesterday was my second round of chemotherapy for Stage 2 breast cancer.  In some ways I felt more prepared - I mean, I'd been through round one, came out the other side and took good notes.  In other ways the always present "It's different for everyone" phrase that pops out of doctors' and nurses' mouths, as well as the stories from the amazing cancer survivors - had me sure that I could have a totally different experience than I did in round 1.

It was different.  I think it was different because I was more prepared.  More in tune with my body.  Less cocky.  Less frightened.  Less of the unknown.

I started the day with a shower (sadly, not the wash my hair kind of shower, but at least it was a shower!), followed by the gluten-free, organic lotions that have been recommended to me and found by my wonderful husband on super-sale!, no breakfast this time...I was not about to lose the battle to the vomit monster this go-round!, but coffee, always coffee.

I did a gentle yoga practice, some meditation, I was already packed from the night before - but this time I took less stuff and more essentials...Spot, for instance - my stuffed dog that used to be Peyton's stuffed dog, that I adopted to use as a kind of perfect neck pillow at night.  My pink skull scarf - perfect for pulling the cold cap choke strap off my neck and long enough that I could sit on it to pull it down and not have to tug on it for 7 hours.  This amazing ginger concoction that my friend Mickey sent to me - I made it warm and sipped it before, during and on the way home and it seemed to keep my tummy in check...Lisa and ginger tea: 1, vomit: 0!  I also took an electric blanket which was such a blessing when the actual chemo drugs were going into my body - it's a cold that I have never felt before and this really helped - especially when the very sweet techs/nurses/etc piled on the warmed blankets from their magic stash.

We got there on time, team in tow, cold cap cooler staring at me, challenging me, intimidating me.  But I was determined to find my peaceful place and not be surprised by my reaction to have a -35C° gel cap strapped to my head for over 7 hours. 

I gave blood, I met with my doctor and I headed into the infusion room.  Since I'm doing cold caps (and since I was a moaning mess last time) I got the private room.  It's big enough for the gear and my team of superheroes and the nurses and various chemo gods and goddesses. 

The first step to cold caps is protecting your head - forehead & ears especially from the extreme cold.  There are stories of frostbite that don't sound fun at all.  So all this fun stuff gets stuck to my head with tapes and adhesives...my daughter is the expert at this part.  Then, joy of all joys, my hair is wet down with a spray bottle - I feel like a misbehaving cat when she shoots me with all these little spritzes of water.  It has to be damp all the way down to my scalp, but not on the ends.  It's drippy.  Then my husband pulls out the first of the 6 cold caps that are packed in the cooler with dry ice and numbered so they can be rotated to assure they get cold enough between wearings.  The center of the inside crown of the cap needs to be -30 to -35°C...it's soooooooo cold.

Add to that, my extraordinarily large head and you have an adventure.  Patrick discovered a new trick to help get the cap all the way on snugly even before the straps were applied...which was great, because if the cap doesn't touch your scalp and therefore freeze the follicles, it doesn't work to fool the chemo into thinking my hair isn't a living thing to kill.  The ice crystals that form because my hair is wet probably help with that.

Last time, as soon as the cap got strapped on - I had a meltdown - I was unprepared. I was overconfident of my ability to do anything with ease and I thought, because I tend to "run hot" that a cold cap wouldn't be 'that' cold.  HA!

It was freak show cold!  Intense.  Painful.  And because of all I just mentioned - a total surprise!  Thankfully, it only lasted about 4 or 5 minutes right after the cap was secured on my head...but that means it happened every 25 minutes for the duration of the therapy.

The worst part was the intense cold triggered a kind of migraine, which triggered migraine nausea.  I haven't had a migraine since switching my diet away from dairy, grains and gluten, but under these circumstances, my body did not care!  It went into this awful, immediate seizing up of my insides - right at my throat and where all the commercials say you feel acid reflux.  It caught me off guard.  Then they strapped the chin strap on and I became claustrophobic and frightened.  I had a flight or fight kind of reaction and lost all my reality.  I moaned.  I rocked back and forth.  I couldn't communicate.  I was fighting instead of relaxing into my body.  It was awful and lasted the entire nearly-8 hours.

This time, it wasn't unknown.  I was able to prepare mentally.  I was able to relax with some yoga in the morning and deep breathing and relaxation once we got there.  I brought the electric blanket.  I brought Spot.  And I was able to tell my family what I needed to get through.

One of the cold cap helpers (who has been through the treatment on the same chemo drugs successfully) started to massage my shoulders and my hands during those intense first 4-5 minutes and it really helped.  Human contact, blood flow, perspective.  And so, I made it clear that I needed someone with me rubbing my hands, feet, shoulders, back - whatever during the most crucial first 5 minutes.  And it really helped.  A couple of times (I like to think it's because I was doing so well) they forgot me and were both focused on documenting the cap info and putting things away - but I reminded them! 

My daughter also climbed right into the bed and under the electric blanket with me as soon as she got the straps done to run my back or hands...we snuggled!  It was such a blessing and a comfort.  We prayed.  We hummed "Lost Boys"...sometimes we sang...much to the dismay of the normal people in the infusion chairs, I'm sure - but that's our song right now!

Of course, when the actual chemo drugs were flowing it added to the intense cold.  I can't explain it, suffice it to say - I have never been that cold in my life - ever.  I shivered involuntarily for 2 hours - once again - yay electric blankets and the magic 'heated blankets' from the chemo blanket warmer.  Made it all bearable. 

We stayed a little bit longer this time, to make sure we had all the boxes ticked for appointments and meds and cold cap changes.  We still had to stop right there on Davis and change a cap (I promise to post a picture of what this all looks like at some point...it's just so ridiculous - kind of a Marvin Martian thing....I think, I never have to see me, but I can tell how bizarre I look from the looks of the people I pass when I run to the restroom or when we are leaving.  I'm just not ready yet.  I'm hanging on to what's left of my dignity for another week or so...maybe next infusion)...at this point - I didn't care who saw me and my jiffy-pop contraption.  I just wanted to be done with it and go home. 

The caps have to remain on (changed every 25 minutes) for 4 hours after the chemo drugs are complete - a very long time.  Especially when it's talked about in number of caps left...I lost my strength when I learned I still had 6 caps to get through...in my mind we were almost done.  But I got it back - thanks to my amazing family.  I sipped more warm ginger tea, and piled on the blankets and had Daisy - the medicine dog to end medicine dogs and my son.  My tall, strong 17-year-old son is an amazing nurturer.  He loves his momma.  And he is a bit of a pleaser.  All that adds up to the best hand, feet, shoulder, back massager during the dicey last stages of cold caps on the planet.  I will admit that he got a bit distracted during Sports Center, but I get that!  I reminded him it was all about me, he rolled his eyes and got back to taking care of me!  Peyton was wiped out and took a nap at my side, which was pretty fabulous too.  Patrick took on the duties of applying, strapping, timing and all patient need-fulfillment through the last 6 caps. 

When it was all over - I was so proud of myself.  Very little moaning, no crying, an amazing ability to call on all of the prayers I knew were out there in the Universe and the strength of my family to find my center and my peace and my personal strength to get through this.  I was drained.  I think it was more tiring to hold it all together, but so worth it.  I wasn't as jangly and teary and anxious.  Just weary to my core.  I'll take weary over anxious any day!

I napped through the evening, didn't make it through one minute of Guardians of the Galaxy, turned down pizza in favor of watermelon and still slept like a baby.

I didn't do as well as planned with my water, but I am back on track today.  I did do all the right dental stuff - waterpic, brushing, rinse 5 times a day...so that's batting .500.

I got so many lovely messages and posts and kind words and prayers yesterday - it was overwhelming and filled me with love and joy and connection.  Never underestimate the power of feeling connected - even when you've spent a good portion of your life proud of the fact that you can do anything all by yourself.  I can't do this all by myself.  I need people.  I need their toughness, their muscle, their courage to get me through this. 

So, for everyone kind enough to follow along on my journey and send a kind word, a prayer, a cheer and some much-needed encouragement...thank you!  I don't think you will ever understand and I will never be able to fully express what it has meant to me. 

And, best news of all - I am 50% done with chemo!!!!  Halfway there, baby!