Third day in...

Hey, this carboplatin is a breeze! Whoo hoo! I am eating, only using half of the nausea drugs, and keeping everything down... yes, everything. I have yet to vomit since the introduction of the carboplatin into my system on Tuesday.

There have been 'hiccups'. But with the judicious application of that anti-psychotic novo-chlorpromazine, we seemed to have nipped that particularly ugly side effect in the bud.

One of the questions that immediately jumps to mind is 'why didn't they use this drug before?' Well, apparently it takes between 3 and 6 doses of carboplatin to have the same butt-kicking effect on the cancer cells that the cisplatin does. What they will do is give you three to six days of carboplatin in a row, which, by the end, you're not in much better shape than with the cisplatin, anyway. And you just know the cisplatin is that much stronger, potent and deadly 'cause they store and serve it in glass containers, while everything else we've noticed on the IV stands has been in plastic...

I am a little fatigued, maybe a bit dehydrated, and just a tiny bit deluded into thinking that I've got the outward manifestations of these damned therapies under control. Gail, good caregiver that she is, still makes me wear masks out in the great wide world, ensures that I am using the various creams, lotions and swishes, and is only just a bit bossy in doing any of it. Just a bit bossy, and somewhat pushy when it comes to the calorie count... I am starting my mornings with the "Plus" version of Ensure, followed almost immediately by two fried eggs and a glass of milk. Lunch (if I actually got out of bed to make 'lunch' a different time period) is a soup of some sort... Uncle Pete's chicken soup has been getting the most play so far this week. Evenings have been one or another chili, or the three potato casserole that Gail makes, or some of her fish pie. Between meals there is usually a yogurt or pudding cup on offer, and, of course, the ever present glass of milk. I still can't quite taste the sugars, but most of the savoury flavours are coming through. The chemo doctor, after a heavy sigh, did tell me that it could be 'many, many weeks' before the tastes are back to normal. Open cans of almost-room-temperature-and-slightly-stale soda water to cleanse the stickier saliva are strategically placed throughout the house.

Which reminds me... I haven't really pointed out that the thick saliva has pretty much subsided. Mornings (teeth brushing time) are the worst. But it really isn't getting in the way too much during the day. Add another 'whoo hoo' to the stack!

White Noise...

Sometimes a bit of white noise in the background is more comforting than silence. I haven't written in a week, through a week that had promised all sorts of challenge. I'm sure that some of you who check in regularly may be concerned. Don't be. All things are moving forward nicely... little to no problems. The major challenge is that a change to the anti-nausea drugs is making me very lethargic... down right sleepy, really. I am not sick. I am not spewing everywhere and everything as I did last time. We even seemed to have gotten the hiccups under control fairly early on, with the odd, gut-wrenching spasm at the esophagus/diaphragm barrier. Makes me wonder if I'm heading for a hiatus hernia...

So, I'm here, I'm good, and I'm tired.

I'll try to write detail tomorrow as the last of the anti-nausea drugs work their way through my system.

Hiccups are bad. Hate 'em.

The continuing fallout from chemo therapy seems to be centering around the hiccups that keep coming back and back and back. This morning, after radiation (by the way, they cut the eyes out of the Iron Maiden for me!) we waited to see Dr. Koski and her intern to see what can/should be done about the hiccups. They have become absolutely disruptive to everything... my sleeping, my eating, my drinking. (Hell, the whole chemo thing is devastating my drinking, not just the hiccups. I can't keep up with my scotch consumption... just kidding!) What happens is that I get sudden bout of gut shaking hiccups that goes on for three or four minutes. Then, after walking about, drinking cool water, and anything else I can think of, they'll subside. If I have taken meds lately, or had anything to eat, then it becomes a waiting game; will my system sudden toss it all?

New drugs are on the way... a little anti-psychotic called 'chlorpromazine-oral'. If they were to ever offer it to you, make sure you read the fine print. Its got some potentially nasty side effects that I personally don't want... and one that I might similar to Viagra. The warnings say 'in the unlikely event that you have a painful, prolonged erection (lasting more than 4 hours), stop using this drug'. Okay... four hours would be good, right? Not so sure about the 'painful' part though.

I'm also doing a bit of research on the nerve that may be causing all of this... I'm not sure that I got it right the last time...

First Chemotherapy and First Radiation

Indications of the imminent approach of a tidal wave, as verified on tape and anecdotally during the Boxing Day tidal wave in Thailand several years ago, was (or is) the slow withdrawing of all the water back from the beach, in some areas as much as several kilometers away from the coastline. Once withdrawn, there is a 'pause, two, three, four' and then the water comes screaming back towards and then over the beachlines/coastlines and well inland.

At 2:00 am this morning, I had a mild hiccup which woke me. My immediate thought was that the bought of hiccups that I had while in hospital with the feeding tube in was back. Not to disturb Gail's sleep, I moved to the couch. And then it started. First, my mouth went dry, cold and clammy. Next all the of the muscles in my mouth, even those reconstructed during the surgery from my forearm flap, contracted, pulling down into my throat. Even my tongue got into the act. Ohmigod! These are my personal indicators that I was going to vomit, sorta like tidal wave indicators. I lept off the couch and ran to the ensuite, pausing to close the door adjoining the bedroom so Gail wouldn't be disturbed; tactical error. I starting spewing. I held my mouth closed, but the shear power of the spasm in my guts forced my lips open. Yuck! I caught what I could and dashed for the toilet where I unloaded the rest. Projectile vomiting. Yuck! Yuck! The whole event took about 90 seconds to completion. And then it took me about 10 minutes to clean it all up... and Gail didn't wake up. Yay.

I had another incident after trying to eat scrambled eggs about 11:30 am. No mess this time, just straight to the toilet bowl and whooooosh.

I've also had two serious bouts of hiccups in the last few hours, and one that just started moments ago, for which I'll have to get some help from Gail. What we find is working is she will rub/pinch my earlobs while I hold my breath... this somehow redirects CO2 to a specific nerve grouping which is assumed to be responsible for the hiccups. Its a nerve called the Vagas, I think. Hey, it seems to work...

So all of this is happening within the first 24 hours of my first chemotherapy course with Cisplatin. Thank goodness today in Saturday and I don't have any radiation. Now that would have been a nightmare.

The amount of vomiting has exceeded the baselines that we were given, so we called into the telephone triage centre... there's more medication on the way.