Jan. 2, 2016, 12:25 a.m.
The following is what has transpired since a (long, but) relatively uneventful chemotherapy infusion of doxorubicin and vincristine late last Wednesday evening--
post-chemo Wed eve dinner and meds: cheese and turkey, 1st dose dexamethasone (3mg), benadryl and lorazepam for chemo nausea, lactulose (15ml) for pooping, and ranitidine (an antacid, because there's an outside chance that it might counteract the nasty effects of everything else?).
2am, Thurs: coughing followed by violent vomiting of all stomach content
11am, Thurs: Aila wakes up dry heaving, eventually vomits bile before we manage to get ondansetron and ativan successfully into her. 2nd dex dose followed.
4pm: Very sadly, cancel plans to go see Christmas lights with friends.
12pm -11:59am, Thurs: Aila yells, screams, and cries, sometimes uncontrollably, often in unison with her brothers. Also, demands for sausage, pasta, nuggets, pasta, sausage, sausage, nuggets, "sompin' else," and sausage. 3rd dex dose administered.
11am, Fri: Aila wakes up and demands pasta, garlic nuggets, and sausage, yelling uncontrollably. Mom scrambles but feels nauseated at the smell of garlic in the morning, so decides to put on a hospital mask. While she's at it, she also decides to wear Brian's Bose noise-cancelling headphones for the duration of dishwasher emptying and Aila feeding. Great choice. 4th dex dose administered, followed by ativan and ondansetron, then lactulose
11:20am, Fri: Aila asks to go "back to bed," and promptly falls asleep. Wakes up briefly while we take her to Grandpa's, but falls back asleep for most of the afternoon shortly after.
5pm, Fri: Everyone nervous that Aila hasn't pooped, remembering our constipation-dictated hospitalization, but then 6pm Aila poops violently, requiring all hands on deck. All relieved.
Awake times on Fri: Demands (which we mostly met in a furry) for pasta, sausage, nuggets, ham, sausage, turkey, pasta, pizza...all before falling asleep for the night next to a plate of cheese.
I don't know what it should be called, but not chemotherapy. Therapy is a good thing, in my world, and (when it works) provides space, comfort, and peace for those who seek it. Chemotherapy is all we've got, but it's not any of those things.
Love you baby girl. Hate you when you're yelling, but I also understand. I'd be yelling too, no doubt ten times louder. --Mom
Comments
Angela tana 8 years, 11 months ago
Vicky
Link | ReplySounds like your finding your rhythm! I love the idea of wearing the mask and headphones. It's almost like a composer can gather all of the sounds happening simultaneously to create a very unique song. To keep finding the humor must either mean your overtired (at least for me...when I'm overtired I almost become like I'm inebriated) or amazing at coping. Either way your finding a way to move through each. You and Brian are champions.
Your old friend,
Angie
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