June 25, 1998
I'm at one week post first chemo treatment and still have all my hair! OK, so that's not so unusual but I'm still happy about it. I may only have it a few more weeks so I'm savoring these last few moments. I'm pretty sure my neck lump has shrunk a bit, and from the irritating twinging in my chest, I'm assuming my chest mass is doing some shrinking as well. Needless to say, since the negative effects of my first chemo have largely passed, I'm feeling very happy to think that the cancer is on the run already. The chemo treatment itself went pretty smoothly, proving most of my fears completely unjustified. The portacath seems to be working like a charm, and I didn't have any physical sensation at all when the drugs were going in. I did have a bit of a metallic taste in my mouth, but the nausea and other nastiness didn't kick in until after I got home that night. The nurse was really great - very nice and with a sense of humor. Probably the worst part was the litany of drug side effects she had to read to me pre-treatment. It probably would have been quicker to go over the handful of things these drugs might NOT do to you. Of course, most people never experience most of the side effects, but they have to tell them to you anyway. After twenty minutes of hearing about things ranging from bad breath to long term heart and lung damage, my head was spinning. When she finally finished, I wanted to ask "Is this when you bring in the clown to provide some comic relief?"
Despite the fact that I dutifully brought my visualization tape to listen to during chemo, I ended up spending the whole time talking to Shaz and doing the Sunday Globe crossword puzzle with her. Doing the puzzle is a semi-regular ritual for us, and proved a great diversion. I just couldn't stomach another new age, spiritual, deep and profound exercise that afternoon. I needed some nice basic normal human interaction and it worked out quite well. I didn't get to use my leaping labs visualization much either, but have been sneaking thoughts about it at opportune moments since. It's become a new thing to do to pass time. On hold? Think of leaping labs eating cancer cells! Waiting in line at the store? Tune into those goofy dogs with noses to the ground sniffing out those hidden caches of cancer. It beats getting irritated at the person in front of you with a hundred coupons.
Finally, I've decided that one thing that makes the cancer experience even more of a drag than it really has to be is the WORDS associated with it. In this age of innocuous politically correct terms for dressing up nasty things, you'd think someone would have come up with a few good substitutes for some of these words. I mean, just the sound of a word like CHEMO is enough to send a shudder through anyone, and I don't think it's just because we know what it means. It's just a nasty yukky word that sounds something like fingernails scratching down a blackboard. Couldn't we substitute some nice term like Cure-You? Or at least follow it up with some nice infomercial type approach like - "Cure cancer, lose weight and shed unwanted body hair all at the same time!! Want to stop eating chocolate?? Just eat a nice chunk right after receiving chemo! You won't even be able to THINK about chocolate comfortably again for a long, long time! It's the miracle drugs of chemo!"
The word CANCER itself is bad enough - one of those words that just kind of crawls out of your mouth as you try to say it. How about genetically challenged cell clusters? And why do the names of all cancers have to end in that nasty OMA suffix? LymphOMA, melanOMA, etc. That OMA thing just makes my skin crawl! Do they intentionally make these words sound nauseating? And don't even get me started on the names of the chemo drugs - Vinblastin? Bleomycin? Hello! I wouldn't feel safe spraying stuff with names like that on my lawn never mind pumping them into my veins. These docs should take a cue from drug dealers and start dishing out things like purple dolphin and magic sunshine instead. Sheesh! Anyway, I'd love to hear from other cancer survivors on other words like this they'd like to see changed. I may just start a list.
OK, I'm outta gas for tonight - email me with ideas for my list!
Carpe Diem
11:30 pm
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