When they called for the chemo patients to report for blood testing, I hurtled through the throngs wielding my “graduation papers” like a maniac.  I was going straight to the front of the queue and getting out of there as early as possible.  Fat chance!  I still had to see my oncologist first and she had other ideas about how long she wanted me to hang around.

I finally got to see her at around 9h30 and, thankfully, having prepared my checklist, we could discuss everything that needed discussing.  We went through my side-effects, which it turns out, were not as atypical as I had thought and she offered some medical solutions to ease the symptoms.  For the heartburn, she could prescribe a suitable antacid, which unfortunately, causes constipation.  For the constipation, she suggested I go lightly on the antacid.  Considering the antacid was not the initial cause of the constipation, this was a little worrying but I suppose one is left to choose between the lesser of the two evils in this case.  For the insomnia, she prescribed a medication that I am required to take about 3 hours before I want to actually go to sleep.  If I fail to do this, not only will I not sleep, but I will wake up with a chronic headache the next morning.  Fortunately, she agreed that my favourite drug in the world, Myprodol, is available to me at any time for headaches.  Being a diligent student, I also asked her how I can ensure that I score better on my future blood tests.  She told me that I need to get a lot of sleep and eat properly.  Wow!  And I thought that was just what one did to function normally, without the added pressure of deadly toxins in the system.

After hanging around for a while, I told Nik that I was fine and sent him off to run a few errands while I waited to have my chemo.  It is not always a good idea to be left alone in a chemo area.  Other cancer patients have often got incredibly tough stories to share and this can be difficult to cope with when you are feeling a little frail.  One woman told me that this was her third bout of cancer in 11 years, while another was there with her son who had cancer when he was 2 and was now dealing with it again at the age of 20.  We all need to believe in a positive long-term prognosis, so hearing of repeat attacks can be incredibly demoralising.  Incredibly, however, I find the people in the chemo clinic to be unfailingly optimistic and positive, despite their various battles with cancer.

I finally went into the chemo room at about 10h00 and got hitched to my line.  I settled back into my armchair and started the first bag.  One of the only rules of chemo is that as soon as a bag has finished, you have to roll a small lever on the line to shut off the drip in order to prevent air going into the line and killing you between bags.  At the end of the first bag, I dutifully rolled the lever ... the wrong way!!  Suddenly, I realised that the line was filling with air.  Fortunately, I noticed in time and the sister removed the air from the line before hooking up my bag of “Red Devil”.  As it does, that disgusting toxin burnt its way through the veins in my arm until my whole arm felt as if it were burning from the inside.  To distract myself, I got chatting to my neighbours and got so caught up in our lively discussions that I missed the end of that bag and ended up with air in my line again!!  I think the Sister thought I had a death wish at this point!  I was now a complete nervous wreck.  How do you get it wrong twice in a manner of 20 minutes?  After that, I barely took my eyes off my bags and fortunately, managed to survive my chemo without an embolism.

We finally left at about 12h00, clutching my millions of tablets and still feeling a little heady from my dance with death.  Unlike the first treatment, I was unable to rest for the day as we needed to get the kids stationery sorted out for school.  So, we spent the entire afternoon at Canal Walk, at the end of which I felt as if I had swallowed a desert after having walked through it for 40 years.  One of the first side-effects of the chemo is a thirst that is completely unquenchable.  No matter how much liquid I drink, I remain thick-tongued and thirsty.  This goes on for days.  I wake up in the morning feeling as though the inside of my mouth has been lined with cornstarch and drinking does little to ease it.

That first night I diligently took my sleeping tablet (before the sun had even set!) and by 22h00 I was in bed.  Unfortunately, because of the thirst, I had drunk about 27 litres of fluid during the day, so I spent most of the night getting up to go to the toilet.  The heartburn had also already kicked in, so that didn’t help much either.  The antacid is only to be taken 3 times a day.  Pity the heartburn doesn’t work to the same schedule.

The next few days went quite well and I had sufficient energy to get the kids books covered, handle the drive home to Aberdeen and get the kids ready for school on Tuesday.  But Tuesday, spend in 40 degree heat and rushing from pillar to post in Graaff-Reinet, took its toll.  Wednesday (the dreaded day 5) arrived in a blaze of marzipan.  As soon as I woke up and smelt that my body odour was hinting at almonds, I knew that I was into the “dark days”.  My skin and muscles were burning, my throat felt as if I had swallowed fire during the night, I could barely get out of bed and my stomach was roiling.  The heat emanating from inside my body was marginally cooler than the heat of the Karoo sun and I spent the day lying in bed with a fan blowing directly onto me.  For the first time, I started to feel nauseous, with waves of it rolling over my body until I had to lie down on the bathroom floor to try to break the sweat and ease the discomfort.  I wasn’t sure if I was going to throw up or pass out.  Luckily for me, my Iron Constitution pulled itself together and I managed to do neither, but I have never felt so completely revolting in my life.  Nik was visibly shaken when he saw me lying down, grey-faced, breathing hard and sweating.

Thursday was marginally better.  While still unbelievably weak and tired, with minor bouts of nausea during the day, I didn’t feel as if I was on the verge of death.  I still had insufficient energy to do much other than lie in bed and sleep, but I was a little happier than the day before.  The problem with this treatment is that just when you think you are starting to feel better and you try to do a little more, it slaps you back down again.  I will get up and check on my email and within about 10 minutes, I start to feel shaky and queasy, with waves of perspiration engulfing me.  I will go through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and by the time I am ready to add the milk, I have to sit down and rest.  My mind is as active as always, but my body just refuses to co-operate.

It is now Friday and I was hoping that two days in bed would be sufficient rest to allow me to edge back onto my horse.  Unfortunately, this does not appear to be the case.  I saddled up, but by the time the nausea and exhaustion had passed, the horse had bolted.  I think I will be heading back to the sanctuary of my bed now.  Maybe later I will be able to drag the horse into the starting block and actually mount it.  But not right now!

by Samantha Jankovich-Besan on Friday, 21 January 2011 at 12:49