Happy Halloween

Happy 1st Halloween

from the Peanut,

er, the monkey. :)

Double Digits

Chemo Infusion #10 complete.

E. says his body is getting used to some of the poison coursing through his veins.

He may have a point as some of the side effects aren't seeming to hit him as hard this go round. For example, he's actually awake this morning. I can't remember a day after chemo that he didn't sleep all day long. Now, that's not to say he won't take a nap or two throughout the day, but this is the most I've seen him awake already. And he's not nearly as loopy either. While that's not nearly as entertaining, I'll admit . . . it is better. He seems more coherent, more with it, more alert.

On the flip side though, that weird cold side effect is getting worse and worse. I don't think the cold weather is helping in that regards. The cold chills him to the bone and it takes a lot to get him to warm back up. The cold air burns his mouth, his throat, his lungs. His nose tingles as does any exposed skin (not in a funny tingly way either . . . it is almost painful, he says). Room temperature water is too cold. As soon as the warm shower water goes off, his whole body tingles from the wetness. He drops things that are chilly . . . he goes to grab an item, his hand touches the surface, the tingle sensation hits, he loses his grip and the object crashes to the floor.

As for the stomach nausea, the verdict is still out on that one. We'll see if it is better or worse in the days to come.

S.

Just Because

A New Phone

E.'s phone, which he's had since 1982 or somewhere thereabouts, has finally given up the ghost. He actually thought the battery was just dead, but after charging it all weekend and not even getting a blip of power, he conceded that his phone wasn't coming back to life.

It's hard to imagine a time without cell phones. How did we all once survive? It's a convenience we've come to take for granted, but almost can't live without. With that in mind, a trip to the cell phone store was on the agenda for first thing this morning.

E. now has a cell phone in hand. The problem should be solved, right? Life should be back to normal, right? There's a couple of problems though. The first problem is that just because he has a cell phone, doesn't mean he knows how to use it. There will be a learning curved involved, no doubt. The second problem presents even more of dilemma. None of the contacts from E.'s old phone were able to be transferred to E.'s new phone (and without the ability to turn the sucker on, we can't even retrieve them manually).

So, if you'd like to hear from E. ever again, you're gonna have to give him a call or send him a text (and make sure you leave YOUR NAME AND YOUR NUMBER). His cell phone number is still the same, but his contact list is empty. Please help us fix that.

Thanks,

S.

No Clean Teeth

E. had a dentist appointment last week for a simple bi-annual teeth cleaning. When they found out he was still undergoing chemotherapy, they said no go.

After talking to the oncologist, we learned that teeth cleaning needs to be postponed until after chemotherapy. While on chemotherapy, blood counts have a tendency to be out of whack and with a low blood count, there is an increased risk of infection. The inevitable minor bleeding that occurs during cleaning could become serious and bacteria could enter the blood stream as well. There you have it. No clean teeth.

S.

Our request?

As we looked to make the arrangements for our next trip to Texas, we discovered that E.'s next PET scan is scheduled for December 2nd. Since E.'s last oral chemo won't be completed until December 2nd and since we were informed that there needed to be a week in between treatment and scans, that clearly wasn't going to work. Obviously, the earliest E. could have his PET scan would be December 9th. We e-mailed the scheduler to inform her of the conflict and this was the response we received:

"We will take a look at your appts. and try to accomodate (sic) your request."

Huh? "Our request?" What the ??? We're just going off what the medical professionals have repeatedly told us. Our request? Like we're trying to schedule his medical appointments around our tropical vacation or something?

Let's hope they can accommodate "our request." Geesh, we must have some nerve.

S.

Go Vikings!

Kick some Green Bay ass!

Oral Chemo

After IV chemo is done, oral chemo begins . . .

All the meds get sorted for the whole week.

Meds for the a.m. and meds for the p.m.

Now I know why old people use those quirky weekly pill boxes.

How else are you supposed to keep track?

This is one morning's dose.

The six pills on the right are standard issue for the whole week.

Every morning and every night.

The other pills have some variety,

in type and in dose,

depending on the day of the week and the time of the day.

I'm not sure how many pills that is over the course of the week.

But it's a lot.

IV chemo happens on Wednesday.

Oral chemo starts on that same day

and runs to the following Wednesday.

Then there's the week OFF.

S.

Chemo in Pictures

Here we are.

Infusion room.

E.'s port.

Notice how he shaves his chest area on chemo day?

Ripping off the tape is much less painful that way.

That would be the needle they put into the port.

(Numbing cream he puts on his port a couple of hours before

makes it so he can't even feel the needle going in.)

Needle in. Port accessed.

All secured with a bandage so everything stays in place.

A little hydration.

A blood draw.

Right from the port, so no new sticks.

Pre-chemo steroids.

Ondansetron.

Dexamethasone.

Chemo drug #1.

Docetaxel/Taxotere.

Bright neon stickers.

Chemo alert. Chemo alert.

Precautions must be taken when dealing with chemo drugs.

Blue gowns.

Protective eyewear/goggles.

Long thick rubber gloves. (Not the flimsy latex ones.)

Chemo drug #2.

Oxaliplatin.

IV pole hanging with bags.

Chemo drug #3.

Bevacizumab/Avastin.

Almost done.

Flushing the port with some Heparin.

Chemo day is over.

Time to sleep.

Rinse, lather, repeat in two weeks.