I had my second chemo sessions on May 3/4. This time, because I had tolerated the antibodies so well on the first session, I was able to receive the second round of antibodies via injection which took only 5 minutes, and then the chemo drug by IV which took about 2 hours each day - a considerably shorter session than the first go round.
Chemotherapy is a paradox, for sure. To administer the drug by IV, the nurse puts on gloves, a gown and eye protectors in case wayward droplets splash on her; in the mean time, the patient gets no protection and this extremely dangerous drug flows freely through your system for 2 hours killing everything it comes into contact with. So you have to wonder, why do people put themselves through it? I think, because, it gives one hope. Perhaps not hope that a cure will be discovered overnight, but hope that somehow you'll come out on the other side of the treatments and be able to squeeze a bit more time out of this life.
Chemo is also a very humbling experience, especially for those of us who are used to being independent. Nothing that I've experienced has waylaid me so quickly and completely where I've needed help from friends and family on a regular basis. For now, this dependence last about the first 8 or so days and then by week 3, return to my new normal. So, if I don't respond or communicate for the 8 days, please don't take it personally - I'm just not able to. (And you probably wouldn't want me to, as my children can probably attest that I am a very cranky patient!)
And as hard as chemo is on me, I also know that it is far more difficult on friends and family. That feeling of helplessness is very hard to come to terms with. Please do know that as distance keeps most of us well apart, some of the best medicine for me, is your comments and emails and stories on how things are going in your world.
Here is a perspective from a NY Times article titled "what not to say to a person with cancer" that may help (or not):
What do you think is the most commonly asked question of a person who has, or has had, cancer? If you guessed, “How are you?” you got it right.
But as caring as those words may seem, they are often not helpful and may even be harmful.
A diagnosis of cancer can tie the tongues of friends and family members or prompt them to utter inappropriate, albeit well-meaning, comments. Some who don’t know what to say simply avoid the cancer patient altogether, an act that can be more painful than if they said or did the wrong thing.
Cancer patients too often encounter people who assume the role of cheerleader, saying things like “You’ll be fine,” “We’ll battle this together,” “They’ll find a cure.”
However words of optimism may work in the short run, but in the long run they can induce guilt and defeats a person’s best effort.
You may be dealing with the possibility that your life will end shortly, or if it didn’t, it would be changed dramatically. False optimism devalues what is going on in the body. People can be insensitive not from a lack of compassion but from not knowing what is really helpful.
What has been found to be most helpful are not words but actions, not “Let me know what I can do to help,” which places the burden on the patient, but “I’ll do this for you or send this over.”
One can start to dread the query “How are you?” because “no matter how it was intended, being asked ‘How are you?’ can rattle the heightened sense of vulnerability. Patients can find themselves consoling those who asked and then fighting the contagion of grief and fear.
Often the greatest support comes from silently witnessing what a person with cancer is experiencing. Sometimes only a calm presence and compassionate listening are necessary. Silence becomes the breathing space in which people living with cancer can begin difficult conversations.
Engage more in conversations and less in question-and-answer interactions. But if questions are asked, they should be open-ended ones like “Do you want to tell me about your cancer and what you’re going through? Maybe I can find ways to be helpful.”
Among the many suggested “don’ts” are these:
• Don’t make light of a patient’s physical changes by saying things like “At least you finally lost those extra pounds.”
• Don’t talk about other patients with similar cancers, even if they fared well — no two cancers are alike. It’s fine, though, to ask if the patient would like to talk with someone else who’s been through it.
• Don’t say the patient is lucky to have one kind of cancer rather than another, which downplays what the person is going through. There’s nothing lucky about having cancer even if it’s a “good” cancer.
• Don’t say “I know how you feel” because you can’t possibly know. Better to ask, “Do you want to talk about how you feel, how having cancer is affecting you?”
• Don’t offer information about unproven treatments or referrals to doctors with questionable credentials.
• Don’t suggest that the person’s lifestyle is to blame for the disease, even if it may have been a contributing cause. Blame is not helpful. Many factors influence cancer risk; even for lifelong smokers, getting cancer is often just bad luck.
• Don’t preach to the patient about staying positive, which can induce feelings of guilt in the patient if things don’t go well. Better to say, “I’m here for you no matter what happens,” and mean it.
Don’t ask about prognosis. If the patient volunteers that information, it’s O.K. to talk further about its implications. Otherwise, it’s better to stifle your curiosity.
• Don’t burden the patient with your own feelings of distress, although it’s fine to say, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” If you feel overwhelmed by the prospect of interacting with a person with cancer, it’s better to say, “I don’t know what to say” than to say nothing at all or to avoid the person entirely, who may then feel abandoned and think you don’t care.
My next recliner sessions will be on May 31/ June1 and Jody will be here to assist me.