Because I am somewhat technologically challenged, it
will take a while before I get the family pictures I told you about last week posted
here. They are already on Facebook, and I’ve gotta say that they capture so
much personality and love.
My second infusion day was more than an hour shorter
than the first because the drug protocol says after the first one, if I
tolerated it well (and I did), it could be given over the course of an hour
instead of two. (I hope you can untangle that sentence.)
However, I was there at OCSRI Bartlesville from 9:30 am
to 2:30 pm. Why so long? Starting out, there was a fifteen-minute wait in the lobby.
Once I was called back, there was the weigh-in (and I am NOT about to reveal my
weight, even though it was a pound less than last week). From there, I chose a
reclining chair in the treatment room. Today, the room was close to full.
Thankfully, the nurse succeeded with the I.V. stick on
the first try on the back of my left hand. Not comfortable at all, but I have
crooked veins in my left hand and arm that like to roll. I don’t offer my right
arm for an I.V. because that is the side my mastectomy was on. The plus today
was that the nurse (will I ever learn all the nurses’ names?) was able to do
the blood draw from the I.V. as well. She took my vitals, and then I waited.
And waited. For over an hour.
There were two possible hold-ups: first, the labs had
to be processed to make sure I was good to go. Second, there was some sort of communication
glitch to resolve: for reasons unknown, the infusion orders were at the Tulsa
OCSRI clinic and had to be transferred over. Let me say this: OCSRI is a
topnotch medical facility. I do not begrudge them the occasional scheduling
issue. That I have kept my oncologist, Dr. Moussa, who works at the Tulsa and
Stillwater clinics but take my infusions in Bartlesville creates some
processing errors at times.
Since last week, I have purchased headphones for my
Kindle, so it was nice to try them out.
Finally, the infusion process began. I think that the
various I.V. bags each take 20-30 minutes until the last one. First up was
Pepcid AC, followed by steroids, then an anti-nausea drug followed by Benadryl,
and at last the Trodelvy. For each I.V. bag change, a nurse comes up, asks for
my name and date of birth, unhooks the current bag, and replaces it with the
new one. Then she works her magic with the machinery, setting flow amount and
time, I believe.
I checked my email, played a couple games on my Kindle,
read several chapters in Matthew (I’m reading straight through the gospels
right now in the English Standard Version.), browsed in Facebook, ate my light lunch
of plain Greek yogurt with frozen blueberries and strawberries followed by a
snack pack of mini crackers and cheese. And, of course, kept drinking my 32
ounces of Stur. (Try a Google search. It is a naturally flavored water
sweetened with monk fruit and stevia, zero calories and delicious.) About
twenty minutes after the Benadryl drip started, I got oh-so-sleepy and dozed
off for a while. I sure hope you aren’t bored yet.
Since last Thursday, I read up some more on Trodelvy.
Modern medicine is so amazing. Trodelvy targets cancer cells, invading them and
releasing a chemotherapy medicine. That is, obviously, the simplest explanation.
It leaves out all kinds of information I don’t understand. Trodelvy is the
brand name. I cannot spell or pronounce its two-part very long name. What that
means for patients is that the focus of the anti-cancer action is on the actual
cancer cells. However, there is some residual action on any fast-growing cells.
What that means is that I may lose my hair again. And the side effects from the
first treatment last week were not nearly as bad as what I experienced in
chemotherapy treatments in 2016 and 2024-25.
But I must backtrack to the issue of my hair. You see,
I have never colored it and have been waiting with great anticipation since age
50 or so for some gray or silver or white to appear. Now I am 70, and the
gray/silver finally came in this year. I’m really enjoying it and am sad that
it may fall out.
Okay, I have been very wordy. It’s the teacher in me
and, who knows, possible the steroids. It’s getting close to the time to take a
half-dose of Zyprexa, which is better known as an anti-anxiety medication for
various mental illnesses. In cancer treatment, it proves to be an excellent
anti-nausea med. I found out last week that the full 8 mg dose made me very
groggy with some dizziness and being off-balance for 24 hours. It is prescribed
for only four days, starting on treatment day. Hopefully the half-dose will be
sufficient to ward off nausea, though I purchased a purple cane this week just
in case . . .
