F'ing chemo? You betcha...

I was chatting via text the other day with my SIL (sister-in-law), and she was asking about the next round of chemo that I start on Monday (the Adiramyacin/Cytoxin cocktail). I've just finished 12 weeks of Taxol/Herceptin (that's 3 fucking months -- MONTHS, people), which were really starting to take it's toll on me. Besides feeling like I've had the flu that entire time, I've had other SE's (side effects) as well. Neuropathy in my fingertips, hair loss, nose bleeds, acne and other skin issues, hormonal changes (chemopause) that can wig me out without notice, hot/cold flashes -- those are just to name a few. But this next round... Sigh. I'm really trying to think positive on it because this is the treatment that, when they show the awful SE's of chemo in the movies, is what they portray and what everyone thinks of. My oncologist even told me that they used to give this type of chemo in-patient because patients got so sick. Think of non-stop barfing. Sounds like fun, huh?

Thank goodness times -- and medications -- have changed. I'm told there are some great drugs out there now to prevent chemo-induced sickness. I'll be given about 3 different types of those drugs before they pump me up with the chemo. Can I still end up getting sick? Sure. Will I? I have no idea. I'm hoping not. Most people I talk to now, who have had the pre-meds, haven't. Then there's the shot I have to go in for the day after because the AC makes your white blood count drop so quickly. The shot rebuilds the white blood cells inside your bone marrow. But as a side effect of that happening, your bones can hurt. Everywhere. The pain can range from not bad to debilitating. Again, I have no idea what to expect.

But going back to that text conversation I had with my SIL. She was asking if this round (the 4 bi-weekly treatments I'll have of AC) was my last, after of course, it kicks my ass. Fucking chemo, she said.

Fucking chemo, is right.

But as soon as I read that, it got me to thinking. The chemo is working. My tumors are shrinking. I can tell, and my oncologist has told me the same thing. So, in the end, thank goodness for chemo. There's nothing I like about it (okay, well maybe I like the fact that I don't have to shave my legs at all), but it's WORKING.

I have to keep repeating that over and over in my head. It's working.

I'm going to be freaked out on Monday when I start the AC. I've heard it's called The Red Devil, because it's a red fluid that comes in tubes and has the potential of making you feel like you're in a living hell. It's also hand-injected by the nurse, no IV pump taking care of this one. I'm sure there will be tears on my part (big shocker there, since so much makes me cry anymore), and a boatload of anxiety (thank heavens for Ativan). But, like everything else so far, I'm going to take a deep breath and do it. Did you hear that? I WILL DO IT. I simply have to.

On that note, wish me luck? Or maybe just toss a little good juju into the air on Monday around noon. I'll grab on to it with both hands and hold on tight, I promise. Afterwards, I'll let you all know how it goes...