Fighting Breast Cancer

With loved ones in tow, we arrive at the hospital and are directed to the Out-Patient IV (OPIV) ward.  Here, I learn the protocol to be followed every time I have chemo.  First, I check in so that the chemo nurse can place my chemo order with the pharmacy downstairs.  Second, I’m given a vibrating beeper and told to wait.  Third, I pace and make my mother nervous.  Michael is really nervous too, so he takes a trip to the cafeteria.  Whenever he feels helpless with respect to my cancer, he feeds me.  He comes back with the wares of his hunt and I eat. At long last, my beeper vibrates and I walk back to the OPIV room.  I’m given a choice between a reclining chair or a hospital bed.  I opt for a chair next to a man who is already plugged in to his IV drip.  All around me there are people laying with their eyes closed.  Most have no hair.  All of the people in the room are at least 45, with the average being about 60, I’d guess.  Except for the nurses, I am the youngest person in the room.  I suddenly feel like I don’t belong here and I have a panic attack. 

Roberta, my nurse (she’s my favorite), comes to start my IV.  I can’t do this.  I can’t do this.  I can’t do this.  Mom and Michael leave the room.  Apparantly, they can’t do this either.  Dad stays and gives me a pep talk.  He can see that I’m beginning to falter so he comforts me.  He tells me that I am the bravest person that he knows and tells me that he’s proud of me.  The man in the chair next to me also tries to comfort me.  He tells me that chemo is ”not so bad”.  His name is Bob and he is so skinny that his eyes and cheeks are sunken and hollow and his clothes are hanging off of him.  He had to poke new holes in his belt to so that he could cinch his pants so that they didn’t fall off.  Bob has Colon Cancer.

At long last I calm down and Roberta starts me on a saline drip.  Next she hooks up my “pre-meds” to the saline IV.  The pre-meds are combination of anti-nausea medication and Pepcid AC.  She lets these drip for about a half hour. 

At last, Mom and Michael venture to the OPIV to check on me.  So far, so good, I say.  We chat about nothing in particular until my IV begins to beep, signaling that the pre-med bags are empty.  It is now time for the chemo.

Roberta hands me a cup of ice.  She tells me that this chemo is very toxic and can cause mouth sores.  So, as she’s administering the chemo I am to chew ice.  Then she pulls two large syringes from a hazardous waste bag.  The syringes are filled with a thick, red substance.  This is my chemo.  Such a pretty color!  The color of passion.  The color of desire.  The color of blood. 

This is Adriamiacin:  aka The Red Devil. 

(By the way, the book that I link to, just to the left of this sentence, is wonderful.  The author has a great sense of humor.)

2 Responses to “The Red Devil: Adriamiacin Chemo”

1. Becky Says:
   September 30th, 2006 at 8:15 pm

   Karen,
   This has been a long time ago since you put your last message on. I hope you are ok. My mother died of cancer and I went through all of these things with her. I just wanted to tell you how brave you are. If you are still around, good luck in the future. If you aren’t, you are in a better place.

2. Karen the Survivor Says:
   July 16th, 2007 at 1:51 pm

   Hello Becky~

   I’m so sorry that you went through this with your mother. It is a horrible disease; no woman should have to go through this.

   I am doing very well. I am enjoying remission and I am working on updating my blog.

   Please keep checking back!

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