A life of cytostatic ostracism

Arrival in ward

Finally, I was picked up at a few minutes past one in the afternoon to go for my first course of chemotherapy. The oncology ward is just adjacent to my ward so it was not far to travel on the same floor.

I entered a ward of 2 other people with up to 5 clear bags of fluid being pumped into them and I was settled just opposite them.

Soon, the oncology nurse came to explain what needed to happen, I had read up on the side effects and case trials of the drug before.

The needle for the intravenous feeding of the drug was inserted in my left arm near the wrist and close to where I was once irritated and a bag of saline solution was attached.

Highly protected

My drug could be passed through in 45 minutes but the nurse set it for an hour, it was wrapped in aluminium foil a clear reddish fluid that I saw drip down through the tubes into me for nigh on 60 minutes till it all became clear and colour in the tubes.

They had even arranged for my afternoon snack to be placed at my new place, talk about efficiency.

People in protective suits

I was not prepared however for the welcome I received when I returned, I notice was placed above my bed with extra precautions about handling me.

Now, I had been given all information about the medical consequences of my chemotherapy but no one bothered to offer something about the psychological effects og being handled with the utmost care and treated like a contagion.

So, I was confused, as nurses are supposed to wear protective clothing to now when even changing my bedding, this is understandable because my medication breaks down cell structure, affects the immune system amongst other things – my beef is that I should have been told about the life beyond chemotherapy.

This dainty activity will continue for 6 days after chemo, I can see friends and so on but they have to be hygiene-alert and prevent too intimate contact with me.

What great elation almost ruined with a slight omission that would now go into the manuals for receptors of cytostatic agents.

Now, to add insult to injury, I get a comment on one of my hospital blogs - The perversity of SPAM http://yfrog.com/0p35tp Picture of the comment left on my blog concerning my being in hospital. Need I say more? [That link is now lost.]

Waiting for chemo

A postponement

Like a child getting ready to go to the zoo for the first time with all the expectancy you could muster, I thought they’ll be pulling my bed to the oncology ward at about 9:30AM. Alas! No.

We have a postponement for another 3 hours, I was all cleaned up, freshened up and spiced up, it was going to be my first chemo and it had better be as eventful as it should be efficacious, without allowing nasty side effects and what not.

Showing it all without let

So, wait, is the watchword and it offered the opportunity for me to see the doctor about the red eyes and conjunctivitis-like excretions that gum up my eyes in the morning, the itching all over my body and the rash on my ball sac, all seemingly because of my medication.

You suddenly lose all your inhibitions about showing private stuff apart from being afforded the dignity of having the curtains pulled. The doctors generally can prick, poke or prod you anywhere and you only have to answer back with a gasp or a grunt, then the occasional Ah!

Body sculpting with sleep

I am now assured morning naps, definitely something to do with my medication, I have still not visited the gym but I think I will be getting weights to work on in bed, I am still not sure of when I would be leaving hospital.

Did I notice the markings of the six-pack on my abdomen this morning? I made me think of sunny climes for a holiday on the beach with something to show off, even from a hospital bed one should be allowed to dream and dream of vanities.

The loaded in Nigeria, in fact, the one-time Defence Minister was given a therapeutic prescription of two weeks in the French Riviera after a time of slight fatigue – that is a doctor worth seeing.

Neighbours, friends and family

Friends and neighbours have celebrated me to the extent that my cup overflows, those who call from afar to comfort me and pray with me keeping abreast of events and sharing with others that the chain of communication is neither broken nor overwhelmed with repetition.

Though unwilling to laden them back home with this situation, it had come to a point where they had to be told, you cannot be admitted to hospital for two weeks and sweep that under the carpet of secrecy.

My friends close by have been sterling, I have had local fare on both Saturday and Sunday, a completely change from the bland hospital diet. I can only give thanks.

My neighbour has performed beyond neighbourly request, but as I spoke to my friend’s wife yesterday, she highlighted the fact that in times of trouble, emergency or urgency, your next-door neighbour is your first point of call before family or friend arrives.

The need to cultivate neighbourliness in a Western and indifferent world cannot be lost on anyone who finds themselves in my situation, my gratitude knows no bounds and I am yet to express myself well enough in thanks.

The porter is taking me to the oncology ward soon – Sorry, I cannot write that perfectly to the tune of Daddy’s taking us to the zoo tomorrow. A most magnificent bouquet of flowers just arrived from Stockholm, Mwah! Mwah! Thanks (+_+).

A slumbering machine operator

Do not operate machinery

As I stumbled out of slumber and took my anti-thrombosis injection in the thigh muscle before being wished a good night by the nurse, I thought.

Medicines that say do not operate machinery because these might cause drowsiness and wondered if operating the bed-adjustment buttons on my hospital bed amounted to machinery.

Thus leaving me at the risk of being flipped like a pancake in the frenetic state of trying to manage my fingers with the slowness of cranial activity one is suffering from.

Then, does that mean writing a blog is in danger of coming out wrong? Then you realise the idea of machinery that comes to you is about forklifts than buttons even though buttons can do more damage than shifting gears.

Slobbering over gourmet

My wonderful day that slipped by in the midst of involuntary slumber was blessed by visits which included a goodly portion of rice and some rather hot Yoruba stew.

The dietician would wonder why I was able to gulp that down and only sniff at the hospital fare, as if it were not obvious enough. Coming into hospital has meant I have to change my diet completely which in the best Dutch restaurants could be excellent but from a hospital canteen is fit for 3 Michelin tyres without the rims.

And that is a commendation given too generously.

We are ward mates

Haven’t had much conversation with my ward mates, we seem to be in our different world, the matriarch is 84 and not looking much over 65, the new entry is 50, tattooed all over like a Hell’s Angel and she speaks with a monotone voice and the drawl of someone who has smoked all her life – it appears she cannot read too, her partner is here from the first minute of visitation to the last.

The man beside me is 65, tanned like he returned from Spain yesterday; he looks fit and healthy but for what has kept him here for 4 weeks. Apparently, the suppositories are not working for him, unfortunately.

I am prepared for communion, I have my wine ready, I am definitely not doing the abridged version this time and hopefully the padre knows the words to that part.

Good night!

Nausea abates by suppository

Sickly night

The night ere the last was one that was, each second ticked along as hour long intervals of nauseating discomfort, not one for the memories but one to be forgotten.

I hate it; it is rotten, full of really sickly colours and gushes out against the force of gravity with a vengeance too compelling with involuntary spasms of soon to be expected relief.

So, four times overnight I regurgitated the exclusive hospital gourmet till my body was conditioned into realising you could only throw up content, the channelling remains in the body. It was horrible.

The mouth is no good at stopping nausea

The commonsense of medicine is sometimes amusing, since I had the intravenous system attached I was fed an anti-nausea drug, as one should expect, if you could not keep things down, then ingesting an anti-nausea drug was far from smart.

By then I had noticed that most of my medication was coming in pills and beginning to replace my tethered medicine bag.

Nursing so selfless

In the morning, the nurse removed the intravenous drip-deed system completely and this meant I could get around, well hardly, the pain that ran to my feet when I stepped off the bed for a shower was excruciating, I threw away all inhibitions and let the nurse bath me, she was gentle on my crown jewels.

I must recognise the unflinching selflessness of the nurses, kindly, comforting, helping and supportive, it is a calling of great responsibility which taps off character traits very rare in the streets – empathy, compassion and concern ooze out of every pore and what is sometimes a thankless job has not made them any less willing to give and give more.

I did wonder how the nausea problem would be resolved, well with suppositories which I now insert at least 30 minutes before meals – most amenable application of anti-nausea medication.

A dozed off day

The day however is as sleepy as Snow White’s 7 dwarves would have been, sleepy, droopy – I was drowsy all through, I could not multitask or finish the blog meant for yesterday and I was hardly online.

I had guests, my neighbour, unexpected but full of initiative with Newsweek and Time magazines under arm, then my ex-work colleagues all the way from the South of Holland – I am exceedingly grateful, it means a lot to me and their friendship is cherished exceedingly.

I hope today would be livelier and more eventful, but in any case, it is still the day the Lord made and waking up being glad and full of praise sets the tone for not dwelling on useless stuff.

Scuttling cancer with chemo

Cannot hold food down

This has been a long day and I have not tolerated it that much but it was still the day the Lord has made, I will lift my spirits up by rejoicing in it.

I started a new drug therapy last night, the night was again very uncomfortable, but I was hopeful for some news including something that would allow me to know when I could go home.

As dawn broke, I took my second course as I was having breakfast, but within an hour, all of it came back up with a vengeance, I have basically been unable to keep any solids down.

Cancer Chemotherapy Course

The professor consultant and his team visited and were of the opinion that I was not responding as quickly as they might have hoped to all the treatments until now – most seemed to have been palliative so far.

The suggestion of another deep biopsy had my countenance drop like lightening to the ground, even the professor noticed and encouraged me that it might not be necessary; if I could be put under for them to poke around as much as they want, I’ll acquiesce.

A new regime now requires I go on chemotherapy. I suddenly see myself introduced to cancer in the most benign rather than dramatic way with all the assurances that eliminate the generalised notion of terminal.

The chemotherapy is supposed to be very tolerable though, what I am told and what I read are in two different spheres. I am not to expect hair loss, as if I had much anyway and my nails will not be growing off my teeth.

Modelling my foot

Meanwhile, I had a visit to the audiovisual department where my foot was modelled probably for publication in some medical journal sometime in the future; it appears to have a unique learning and observation moment for the personnel.

One wonders if the Hello! or OK! magazines of the medical world would part with a few dollars for the privilege, I will gladly take funds.

So far, I have been unable to hold any solid food down and hope the gels and jelly-like foods would persist for the medication to be efficacious.

It is becoming a lonely world; no guests for days and those that promised have yet to arrive. Stop, think and meditate, it is still the day the Lord has made. Rejoice!