I used to think the bedroom detox scene from Trainspotting was jaw dropping. Literally enough to put anyone off using any drug ever. When watched it today I laughed. I could do a heroin cold turkey standing on my head. This shit is nothing. Round 4 was my first docetaxel (Taxotere) cycle. I can’t find anything to compare it too. Not even the Trainspotting.
I started my steroids 24 hours before to help with my sickness. 4 rounds in and that still isn’t under control. They also gave me more tablets and IV sickness it’s my chemo which is meant to last 5 days. It doesn’t touch the sides. Little did I know that this would be the least of my worries for the next two weeks.
I felt OK on the day of my treatment. My Mam was away so my sister came up to stay with me (I think I scarred her for life after what she had to deal with). Saturday was not half bad either. I felt nauseous and a bit fragile. Like a bad hangover. But I made it out of the house on Saturday and Sunday did a little walk to the shops and enjoyed some nice food. Monday is when the real side effects started to show their ugly head. The next 7 days were a mix of what I can only describe as the worst flu symptoms ever to exist and a really bad heron withdrawal. Most of the days are literally a blur and the week just rolled into one long nasty day.
I’ve never felt pain like it in my life. I hurt. Every bone and joint from my head to my toes felt like it was being stretched and twisted and pulled. Every muscle felt like it was being heated up from the inside out. I couldn’t eat anything for Tuesday through to Saturday. Anything I tried to come out of me up and down simultaneously. Vomiting and shitting yourself at the same time is no easy task. Especially when each movement makes all of your muscle’s spasm to an agonising point. A least I haven’t had to deal with constipation though. Put that on the positive pile.
My mouth was disgusting. My tongue and gums swelled up, and my throat was raw. My lips also were swollen and dry and cracked. If I wasn’t put off eating before with the tummy issues, now it was impossible for me to eat. Bring out Lucozade. My nose was also disgusting. It bleeds all the time on its own for no reason at all whatsoever. Just for the hell of it. My hands are also ruined. I can’t use them. Like they just don’t work anymore. I couldn’t pop a paracetamol out the packet. What’s with that? At a time like this for that to happen. It feels like these symptoms are now just being spiteful. If all of this wasn’t bad enough, the insomnia is just the icing on the cake. All I was praying for is to be able to sleep through it, and instead I just had to watch the clock counting down the days. The stuff nightmares are made of.
On Sunday, I got out of bed. By Sunday I was utterly gross. I’ve never felt so good in my life after a shower. I changed my bed and opened the window in my bedroom and made it downstairs to lie down there for the day. A change of scenery is always a welcome change. All I could think about was dusting a massive Sunday dinner which I was persuaded was going to sort me out, and of course I was right. I only managed about a quarter of it until I was done but it stayed in my body. Vegetable goodness. Success.
I went back to work on Monday thinking at day 10, the pain and suffering was over, and I would be back to my normal self. Not this time. Nope. My body was still twisted. I still hurt everywhere, and I have never felt tiredness like it. As they say, what goes up, must come down and a week of being awake was now taking its toll.
I sacked off work today. Hospital appointments, trying to stay awake and manage my aches and pains was enough for one week without working too. Bring on a nice relaxing stress-free weekend. Preferably filled with nice food and flash cocktails.
