Starting Chemo in the New Year
December 30th I began a new round of chemotherapy for ovarian cancer (stage 4). As we were all reviewing the last year, I could break the year in two. There was six months of chemotherapy followed by six months of “a break,” not remission as there were still nodules in my right lung, but things were small and stable. We went three months at a time back into our “watchful waiting” stage.
In that first six months, I was in the full schedule, heavy treatment one week, lighter the next, then a week off each cycle. I had a few “down days” in that second week, then a good week off when I would plan social things or projects.
In the second six months, I did everything. I did the garden. It was a rainy year and there were squash borers, but we still got some of everything and I canned and put root vegetables in storage. I went on an Alaskan cruise with my sister and a friend. I got to Chicago where I had the best bike ride ever with my niece and visited friends and my parents. Thanksgiving we traveled, and Chicago again for Christmas. By then I wasn’t well (the fluid in my lung becoming problematic), but I managed, and had my husband to help out with the travel, so all was fine. Excellent, actually.
This new regimen, as long as I can manage the side effects, promises to be pretty good, all things considered. Treatment is once a month. The drug has high toxicity and the list of side effects is daunting, but I don’t usually get the side effects. Of course, my body is more compromised by each round of treatment, but ALL my numbers on every index were normal before starting. If 50% of people get the side effects, I tend to fall on the better side of that line. This disease usually hits people later in life and in worse health than me.
It continues to surprise me how easily I forget what treatment means. The oncology nurses seemed surprised I was as anxious and depressed as I was on Monday “in the chair.” I told them not to worry, it’s just the anxiety over a new treatment, and they responded by providing more information (all of it pretty bad if you ask me) about what might happen next.
I have to relearn things — take out the products I use for the side effects, get more bleach wipes for the bathrooms, anticipate the eating requirements by getting chicken thighs, making hard-boiled eggs, etc. Display the list of treatment times, get the instructions for the hospital if I get neutropenic (I don’t, but keep it in the car and take it traveling just in case).
At the same time, yesterday was a great day. I forgot also about the impact of the steroid I get as a pre-treatment drug and take three days afterward. Despite going to bed wiped out after treatment, yesterday I had some energy. For phone visits, for much too much time online, and also for making my pot of black-eyed peas with ham hocks for New Year’s Day. We dove into it a bit with our New Year’s Eve dinner, accompanying reheated lamb with lamb gravy, salad with sprouts and wild rice. We finished the rest of the Christmas cookies for dessert. It is important to me that each meal contain something from the garden, and this one had garden sprouts, garlic, and onion. For me, losing/changing food tastes, which will definitely happen, is the worst side effect. But I’m remembering — the sliced roasted garden potatoes last until spring and always taste good. As does Panera macaroni and cheese on off weeks.
In all, last year was a great year. This year, I’m looking forward to another good year, whatever ways I need to adjust to the current reality. I have plans that include writing and also a trip to New York City in February with my husband to visit his daughters in their new home in Brooklyn. People might have to come to me to visit, as I might just hole up in that home and enjoy brief jaunts for food and walks in Prospect Park and the neighborhood. But maybe I’ll feel good after two weeks off.
I am looking forward to the peace of winter here on the farm, already a year of snow. We’re getting in-floor heat in the kitchen, which is a total game changer for me, as my neuropathy most bothers me on cold floors.
I am looking forward to a new flock of chickens in the spring. I am looking forward to time spent with family and friends. I am looking forward to planting my next garden and harvesting early greens and late tomatoes.
There is much to look forward to, even as I enter this hard part of the year. There is more light in the sky and in my heart each day.
