Chemo

     Maybe you've been to chemotherapy with a loved one.  I'd only seen it portrayed in film.  Yet, I doubted that I was gonna become instant friends with three old guys who would offer me pot brownies like in Joseph Gordon-Levitt's "50/50."  When I went in to the Virginia Cancer Institute a little over three weeks ago for my first chemo treatment- the day after my diagnosis- I didn't really know what to expect.

     After signing in and having blood drawn, they sent me back to a second waiting room.  My dad was accompanying me and we were the youngest there.  This room, by the way, was silent.  There was a huge bookshelf lining one wall, facing the horseshoe layout of chairs.  On the shelves waited rows of books, pamphlets on chemotherapy, a paper bag marked "free wigs" that I will never be interested in, and a pile of caps that a knitting circle gifted to help keep our skulls warm.  My name was called after about a ten minute wait.

     We walked into an adjacent, large room of leather recliners and I was seated directly across from the nurses' station.  In the treatments to follow I could choose to sit wherever I wanted, but today they needed to have me close to monitor how my body would respond.  For example, one of my drugs commonly caused "rigor," which is when a sudden cold washes over you and you get the shakes.  My nurse walked me through a paper that outlined the R-CHOP doses.  R-CHOP stands for: Rituximab, Cyclophosphamide… just kidding, I'll spare most of you.  The rest of you nerds will still look it up.  I get 11 agents while sitting for chemo.  Three of them are chemo drugs, one is targeted therapy, and the others are to prevent reactions, or for nausea.

     The sideshow freak of my regiment is Adriamycin.  Most of my drugs dripped from hanging IV bags into the port on my chest.  This "Kool-Aid chemo," as I like to call it, had to be administered through two syringes by my nurse over about five minutes.  Adriamycin is a chemical that can cause extensive tissue damage and blistering, so my nurse prepped by adorning hazmat attire.  If this didn't make you think seriously about the toxic liquid entering your body as a patient, I don't know what would.  She covered her normal scrubs with a suit, added a face mask, and pulled on two pair of gloves before touching the bag that holds the syringes.  The fun part is that you had to eat a popsicle or chew on some pellet ice while the red liquid entered your system (because it can cause mouth sores).  Pellet ice is one of my love languages.

     The second time I unplugged myself from the station and walked to the bathroom with my IV pole, I felt like I fit in.  It was reminiscent of strutting through New York City streets with headphones while visiting friends in Brooklyn on my fifth visit, as opposed to the way I waited in line with tourists for the Empire State Building upon my first trip.  Except the crowded sidewalks here were lined with mostly bald guys dozing off in their chairs.  Either way, I felt like one of the regulars now.

     My body handled the R-CHOP well over the six hours my dad and I sat.  Four of those hours were for Rituxan alone!  I was told treatment would be somewhat shorter the next time I came since my nurse could push the drug faster without fear of a bad reaction.  I was proud of my young body!  Still, I left cautiously, wondering how I might feel over the next few days.  I hoped I would do well compared to the standard, of course, because most people receiving this treatment were much older.  I would just have to pray and wait and see.

Kool-Aid chemo