I have updates on my updates

Cancer treatment

neon a woman wanders through an empty hospital

So cancer treatment is on its merry way and I’ve had two courses of chemo, which is really a bio drug or antibiotic. I get a different answer from whomever I talk to about it. PAs and nurses say bio-drugs, the radiation doctor says antibiotic, and my very own oncologist described it as a type of chemo. So you are now as confused as I am.

My two doctors who are sharing my treatment have different offices and different schedulars. You go right and talk to Dr. Schwarz’s team and you go left and talk to Dr. Dao’s team. I now talk to both so keeping them from stepping on each other as in appointments has been a nightmare. I finally just walk in on time and hope they know what they are doing.

My first chemo—whatever— was a double dose and the day afterward I was screaming, crying and asking God to just kill me now. Yes, it was painful. This last week with a single dose of chemo and four days of radiation have been mild in comparison.

Except I have to wear a mask now when I walk into the lobby. In that room that can hold maybe thirty people is filled with mostly old people. I mean older than me— from 70s to 90s. They all wear cologne and perfume. Not a single one smelled natural.

Of course when I hit that wall of scent, my lungs decided to harden and I couldn’t breath better than a few gasps. Yes, the chemo is making me more sensitive to scent. I may get asthma as my next project… DAMMIT.

When I wore the mask today, my lungs decided to work so there is a reason to wear a mask if you have to deal with old people who need to cover their scent in the most putrid cologne and perfume out there.

At 30, I had an experience with the perfume “poison.” I was working the cashier and a woman came up to me and wanted me to help her put an order in. She leaned into me and almost dropped me to my knees. My face went read and my throat closed. I asked the copy machine operator to take over because I was sure I was going to faint. I washed my face with cold water and it took me 15 minutes to get the scent off of me.

“What happened?” my co-worker was more irritated than curious.

“That woman’s perfume almost killed me.” I still had welts on my face and neck, not realizing that I had had a full-blown allergy attack. He called the boss and told him I should go home. I wish I wasn’t so naive to illness then because I should have either seen a doctor or gone to the ER.

So if my lungs tighten up and it is NOT the chemo, then I know I’m having the beginnings of an attack. Mask, lemon honey tea, and a heating pad on my chest really help.

There really is asthma in the family.

So that is the report of my last few weeks. The radiation was like being strapped to a board with a hood across my face as tight as I can take it. I try to breath through my nose for fifteen minutes and hope I don’t need to swallow. I count the songs (it takes three) before I hear the tech rush in and take the hood off my head.

Thank God I’m not claustrophobic because it would be a nightmare. Well, it is a nightmare.

Sleep well tonight.