My father and I arrived early enough to UNC to proceed at a slower pace and did not have to rush so as we have done practically every other visit. In fact, we were a fifteen or more minutes early to the infusion clinic. Ironically, though, it seemed as if we were required to wait longer than usual. They were certainly busy. As I’ve stated previously, though, Mondays and Thursdays are their busiest days.
Once on the infusion clinic floor, I was ushered to yet another new location. I don’t think I’ve had a treatment in the same general location on the infusion floor twice. As a result, I had yet another chemotherapy nurse to add to my growing entourage. Her name was Beth and she has a daughter who was also born on March 14, 1975. She determined, however, that her daughter was approximately seventeen hours older than me, having been born around six-thirty in the morning. I think that this little coincidence made Beth act a little more maternally towards me. I suppose that she may have thought about how lucky her daughter was to not have to be going through chemotherapy. If nothing else, it prompted her to talk with me about her daughter for a while as we waited for my chemotherapy drugs to arrive.
Positively, my weight had gone down a little bit. This is the goal towards which the nutritionist and I are working. She actually complimented me on my record keeping when she visited with me. She felt I was doing a good job. Negatively, my blood pressure was high as it had been at the last infusion. I don’t know if it is nerves or the overall weight gain. After a while of being on the clinic floor, about twenty minutes or so, they usually recheck my blood pressure and find that it has indeed dropped from its initial high reading. Still, the bottom number is in the nineties which is high considering that I take a blood pressure medication for tachycardia. When I began my chemotherapy back in May, I was probably getting numbers in the 70s and 80s on the bottom and nothing greater than the low 120s on top. I hope that this is not indicative of an underlying problem and will improve as I take off the weight. My Coumadin levels were also still therapeutic. Dr. Valgus was pleased. We had thought that there might be a bump up or down as a result of some pain medication he gave me and a new diet that includes more salad greens. I will have to likely keep getting my PT/INR level checked every two weeks, though.
I was also visited by a recent UNC graduate, Leo, while I was on the infusion clinic floor. Leo is a very nice young man. He has found me and talked with me upon each of my chemotherapy visits. He is a volunteer who will fetch you a blanket, newspaper, or snacks from the infusion floor’s “kitchen.” There are several such volunteers but Leo is proving to be the most personable one. He wants to become a doctor or surgeon. He had applied for UNC’s medical school only to be rejected because of his lack of extra-curricular activities. Apparently, UNC likes to see demonstrable proof that their potential medical graduates can interact well with other people and, thus, have the necessary and appropriate bedside manner required for their jobs. Therefore, Leo is brushing up on his ability to converse and interact with people in a clinical situation. Upon this last visit, he proved to be very knowledgeable in college football. We probably would have spoken for much longer except for the fact that they infuse you with so much fluid that frequent trips to the “necessary room” become the reality during the course of each treatment. (I must admit that it can become somewhat amusing, watching the parade of patients with their unplugged pumps repeatedly traversing the floor on the way to the bathroom.) Upon his initial arrival, Leo had informed me that he was following my advice. I couldn’t remember what my advice had been, so I asked Leo what I had suggested he do. He told me that, per my suggestion, he would be observing a surgery soon. He was having to fill out the necessary paperwork and was in the process of getting his immunizations up to date. I had told him on his first visit with me that perhaps he needed to see if he could stomach the various sights and smells that are imposed upon a doctor or surgeon before committing himself to that particular career path. I hope the best for Leo. He is still as immature as you’d expect a twenty-two year-old to be, but I have no doubt that with his positive attitude he will go far. (Maybe he will remember my friendship and advice when he is making over 6 figures a year. LOL. This is provided, of course, that the efforts to completely socialize medicine are thwarted and that Leo will not be reduced to the lowly position of future government employee.)
The process of being infused is becoming quite routine now. I am really having no difficulties with it. It is just time consuming. What has changed, though, is my reaction to each infusion. My reactions, though manageable, are becoming increasingly intense. My fingers and feet continue tingling for days after my treatment. As I dressed for church Sunday, I had to literally watch myself to ensure that I was putting the button into the button hole. I couldn’t accurately feel the button or even the button hole well enough to work it out as I have done since childhood. I know that sounds somewhat like what I had described as developing a toxicity to the medicine. It is not, though, because I can still feel something and know that the object is in my hand or between my fingers. The tingling just blocks the sensation enough to prevent me from knowing precisely what my fingers are doing. I also haven’t lost the ability to grip as a result of being unable to ascertain how much pressure I am putting into my grip.When things start falling through my hands as a result of my infusion, then we can say that I have developed a toxic reaction to the medication. Until then, though, it is just a nuisance. Fortunately, this problem also seems to improve in enough time as to give me a day or two of relief before starting over again with the administration of a new treatment.
Another “bad” reaction to the infusions that is on the increase is the impact that the chemotherapy is having on my voice. My voice tires easily. If I have to teach class, lead singing, and preach (as I have had to do on a few Sundays), then you can count on me needing the full afternoon for my voice to recover. Even then, I sound to people as if I am very tired. Then again, I am very tired. 
Fatigue does continue to be an issue. I’ve never felt this type of tiredness before. It hits me suddenly and without warning. If I am still, I can fall asleep in a matter of moments. I have spilled several drinks on myself as the result of falling asleep suddenly after taking a drink from my low-calorie, flavored bottled water. That is what you call a rude awakening, especially when you manage to dump the contents of your bottle in certain places that make you think you’ve reverted to early childhood. That is not too dangerous, though. No, dangerous is falling asleep with a hot blow dryer going. I’ve done that too. I know that this will sound odd, but I’ve found the hair dryer to be a handy tool in combating the tingling. By blowing hot air upon my tingling extremities, I overload my brain’s sensory input from those areas. This will make the tingling sensation seem to go away. At the least, it abates the sensation to a level that is hardly noticeable. Unfortunately, though, I’ve managed to burn myself (once) and slightly melt a few things (twice) when I have fallen asleep with the hair dryer turned on and in my hand. I can’t promise you that I will not continue to use it, though, as it is too handy of a tool in my arsenal to combat chemotherapy-related neuropathy. I will, however, endeavor to be more careful with my hair dryer. If you read in the newspaper about a bizarre fire that was started from a hair dryer, though,you may need to scan the headlines more closely to make sure that the fire didn’t occur in southeastern North Carolina. (I know that a good many of you will not have found my previous remarks humorous and may even chide me because of them. I’m sorry. My sense of humor, though, is that dark.)
I find myself now needing your prayers for more than just my physical infirmities, though. I am really discouraged and apprehensive about what the future holds. I try not to feel this way and know that God’s providence can see my family and I through everything. However, it feels right now that everything is just piling on and that the stack just grows higher and higher. In many respects, I feel overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do. Honestly, I don’t know what I can do to alleviate these feelings except to turn them over to God. I need your help, though, in reclaiming my peace and invoking His continued providence in my life. God is gracious and good. I trust that He will provide a positive resolution to all of my life’s difficulties. Thank you for your continued prayers.
Tags: Chemotherapy
