Chemo: yuck!!

Well, I might have been a bit hasty in describing my upcoming chemo (to nearly everybody I spoke to) as fairly easy, low dose enabled by the fact that my cancer is slow-growing and relatively non-aggressive. The chemo regime I start next Thursday is a very aggressive one made possible only by the fact that I am relatively young and fit! Well, thanks for that, I 'spose.

So, here's what I know. The surgeons have pretty much given up on me because of the lymph node secondaries, and I've pretty much given up on them because of the brutality of the Whipple. So my future is solidly in the hands of the oncologist, Paul Craft. At the end of the treatment regime described below, we will re-assess based on the outcome: more chemo, or back off for a while because we've knocked it on the head, and wait a couple of years for it to re-occur - or not!

So from next Thursday, I start a 21 day cycle of chemo which starts with near-lethal doses of two somethings or other, administered in the hospital during a 4-5 hour stay, followed by 20 days of a lethal cocktail called 5F, 24/7. Then start again, and then again, and again, and again and again. Six cycles in all, finishing in early October.

Possible symptoms include: tinnitus, numbness in hands and feet, loss of taste for some food, and loss of appetite ("a good thing that you've got a bit to spare, Tony"), partial hearing loss, skin rashes of various degrees of seriousness, loss of skin from hands and feet, darkening of the skin a la Maurie Carr (!), nausea (especially after the start of each cycle), and tiredness. "Oh, and you WILL lose your hair." "But the doctor said....." "Honestly, he doesn't see the results, he just prescribes the drugs!". Once again, thanks very much. I think I'll ask my mum to knit a beanie for me, and there was a notice in the reception area for wig of all styles and colours.

One good thing, tho, is that I'll be able to shower because the little wellhead in my chest is really nifty. A bit of tennis can and may happen, too.

The main nurse, Fiona, is extremely competent and pleasant. The unit itself has a nice feel to it, 10 or 12 recliners around the room , with tables alongside to put books and papers on. The main injecting room is a little sparse, but the kids there seem nice, and I'm sure I'll settle in okay once I understand what the playground rules are. I sort of expect to see some kids over and over again, as our cycles co-incide. Presumably, some will drop off the perch (but not me!), and we'll be joined by new kids.

Paul Craft (oncolgist) fills me with confidence.

In the middle of all this, I have registered for the Gawler Foundation 10 day program in August, so we'll have to figure out what to do about that in terms of chemo.

Nothing more till next week, probably Friday after my first little dose of poisons. In the meantime, I intend to enjoy my last weekend for a while as a "normal" person. Tomorrow, I will get my hair cut as short as I can stand it. A couple of rides over the weekend, too. Oh, and perhaps an indian meal at Pearce shops.

Bye for now.