My husband had his first cycle of two drug chemo last month, and had some nausea and tiredness, but apart from two days felt well enough to carry on working and was quite impressed with his reactions. It is a two week cycle, with one chemo drug being given IV immediately on day 1 and the other drug being infused through a portacath for two weeks and then two weeks chemo free. By the end of the second week of being drug free, hubby was much like his old self, apart from being bald that is!!
Cycle 2 started on Friday 28 October and by the Sunday hubby was in a terrible state, overwhelming nausea, stomach pain and unable to even move with cramps and feeling ill. He tolerated this for two days before I was allowed to ring the hospital and the registrar said to go to the nearest A&E, which we did. The hospital were great, hubby went straight in with a face mask on to protect him against infection and we were put in a side room, and x-rays were taken and bloods all of which showed everything was normal, but he was dehydrated and obviously had constipation. He was also told they thought it was gastritis and to take Omeprazole to help with that (more medication!!). We got home at around 10.00 at night and after a restless night, hubby finally had some porridge to eat and managed to keep that down without pain.
It has been so dreadful to watch him suffering and such a surprise as we had been told that the first cycle would be the worst and as he was relatively symptom free that time the second cycle would probably be easier. To make matters worse we learned of the death of a close business colleague of my husband's from cancer and to whom he had spoken just a few days earlier AND we also had to attend the funeral of another friend on the Thursday, but in the event I went alone as hubby could not face it.
Our hospital trip to change the chemo bag on Friday went well and all the anti-nausea meds, constipation tablets and others were changed and also the chemo strength was reduced by 10% (without affecting the efficacy), and this the doctors hoped would reduce the reactions and side effects.
This has really been an eye-opener - what with my husband's obvious distress and the loss of the two friends, it has brought home the battle we face. The specialist said this week that my husband's cancer is rarer than hen's teeth, and I have always taken that as a good sign in that it means it may be easier to fight, but I now realise that nothing is easy in this battle and the reality of the chemotherapy was very obvious.
I am going more and more into myself in order to cope, and I cannot and more truthfully, do not want to talk about it any more, I try to steer discussions about the cancer onto a different subject, as I feel I am at overload and any more might just blow the top off the emotions I am holding in check. I cannot hear about what other people are going through or their emotions as that might just be the one thing to tip me over the edge and I have to stay strong for my husband - it sounds selfish and it probably is, but this is the only way in which I am able to cope at the moment.
The next hurdle is the CT scan in the middle of November after the chemo bag comes off for two weeks - this will show whether the chemo combination is working and reducing the tumours. If it is not the case then it will mean a re-think by the medical team as to which chemotherapy drugs to change to and possibly a stay in hospital.
My husband is understandably becoming more and more depressed especially as he has not been able to work this week, and he is talking more and more about doing things right now in case he is not alive next year - I am finding that very difficult to hear and it makes my caring so much more difficult, but I dare not let him see how this is affecting me as I would not want him to stop talking to me and confiding in me. Our husband/wife moments are becoming precious and we are able to talk more openly than for many years about things we are important to us as a couple and what we want each other to take care of in the future.
So more waiting - I have never, ever wished days away so much as I do now until we have the results of the November scan at which time, if the chemo is working, we will know we have a light at the end of this dreadful tunnel.
