After a bit of a delay, I finally got the second treatment. I went to the lab where I was asked for the millionth time if I had any water today. I had already had at least 6 glasses and it was only 1 pm. The lady taking it said I must just have thick blood.
When i got upstairs, my white blood counts had gone way up and my neutrophils were are 3.0 which is on the low end of normal. (They were 0.2 last time, while normal is considered 2.5 – 8.0. I think the hospital’s cutoff for performing chemo is 0.5.) I had a bit of a cold, but was told the only thing that would affect is what floor I get the treatment on. First they swabbed me so they could get the results of what was happening. Since there were no transplant patients on the 2nd floor at the time, I was allowed to go there, wearing a mask and keeping the curtains drawn.
Jack wore a mask too because he was sneezing and wanted to match me, style icon of the cancer center.
I worked with a different nurse this time who answered all our questions. I mentioned that I noticed more hair in the shower than I usually do because whenever I run my fingers through my hair, a few strands come out regardless of if it’s wet or dry. She told us to get a wig for this week. (I have a party coming up that I went with a cute hat, so hopefully that’s good for the time being. Plus I have A LOT of hair, even with it short so hopefully it looks okay at the party. After that, I don’t care too much.) I have been told (by me, and by people mocking me) that I look good in every hat, so it seems I’m going to get to put that to the test real soon. I asked the nurse if she though I would be cueball bald, and on this chemo regimen she said yes. It seems like every time I speak to someone, they make the hair loss a little bit more dramatic. I think I would prefer to learn straight off the bat that I might look like Mr. Clean.
Quick note to anyone thinking they might shave their head in solidarity, which I don’t expect from anyone except Hannah🐦: Don’t do it until I’m bald, bald. I would feel terrible if my hair just wound up thinning in a not so bad way and you looked like Caillou. I’m going to wait.
The infusion was a little rougher this time around. They gave me more pre-meds, but a few of the chemo drugs burned on the way in. The nurse slowed down the dacarbazine because my arm was hurting a lot and kept putting warm packs on it. As soon as the warming went away, the pain would come back. She offered to slow it down even more, but I declined because I wanted to get out of there.
We consulted with the nurse and decided to go ahead and get a port put in for next time. If I had easier to access veins, maybe we would have kept trudging though with the IV, but my veins are tiny and with the port, you don’t feel any pain during infusion and the infusion is shorter.