So far so good

I had my first injection of Docetaxel yesterday. I had to begin taking the steroids the day before, so I haven't been sleeping so well, but at least I'm not as tired as I was. I was a little nervous going in because a small number of patients have a bad reaction to the drug within the first 10 minutes of the drip, involving difficulty breathing and flushed skin. I didn't experience any weird feelings, although my face is bright red, but that seems to be a result of the steroids. My face doesn't feel hot or sweaty (except when I have my regular every-45-minutes hot flash), I just look like a beet.

During the infusion, which took an hour and a half (though the whole visit takes about six hours, because you have to have bloodwork first and then wait for results and then wait for the chemo drugs to come up from the pharmacy), I stuck my fingers in ice packs to try to prevent the drug from reaching my nails. Melting fingernails is one side effect of Docetaxel. I don't think the ice packs were very effective -- they melted too quickly and the cold didn't transmit through the provided cover very well.

My blood tests were good except for that alkaline phosphatase bone-mets indicator, which still hovers around a high level. But the doctor insists that she sees this often during chemo and doesn't seem worried. In any case, I had no bad liver-enzyme levels, which is the most important thing, I think. If we can just keep the cancer out of my vital organs, I'll live a while longer.

I told the oncologist how much discomfort I have in my left armpit and left breast -- in fact, without getting too graphic and personal, the skin sometimes resembles photos I've seen of inflammatory breast cancer, which is a bad thing. She took a look and said she thinks it's just the after-effects of the surgery, primarily nerve damage. But she mumbled something that I took to mean, "We're in the middle of treating you, so we'll worry about what's happening when we're done; either the chemo and radiation will help or they won't."

I didn't feel too bad last night -- not much nausea and no bad taste in my mouth -- and I feel pretty good this morning. So now I'm awaiting whatever is to come, muscle aches being the most common side effect, perhaps by Friday. I told my oncologist that I want to attend the National Magazine Awards gala on June 5, just three days after my next injection, and she suggested postponing the treatment to the following week without my even asking. I have done so, but I'm going to carefully monitor how I feel in the next three days. If it's not too bad, then maybe I'll go back to the regular schedule -- don't want to compromise my treatment if it's not necessary. Of course, the second round may be worse than the first, as effects can be cumulative.

Pollyanna moments:

Although I'm a little embarrassed at accepting friends' offers to be my "chemo buddies," because I could certainly get myself to the hospital and back in a cab or even on public transit, and I could certainly sit in a chair for six hours and get an injection accompanied by a book or my iPod, I must admit I still feel so much better with a friend there. Even though the Medical Day Care department at my hospital and its staff are completely familiar to me now, it's easy to get depressed and frightened in that setting if you have nothing to distract you. Somehow the treatment brings home in a concrete way what's really going on, thoughts you can often ignore when you're going about your business at home. My chatty friends do the trick superbly, and I'm so grateful for their company. I don't think it can be very cheering for them to be there, either, and I think it's brave of them to join me.