This Machine Killed Cancer

(This post may also not be safe to read while eating…just a heads up).

Today is day +7, two full weeks after checking in to the hospital.  This is when the doctors warned I would be feeling the worst, as my body systems all reached their nadir.  They gave me this morbid prediction as I was getting my chemo.  At the time, it was hard to imagine I could feel any worse, but the doctors (as usual) were right.  The chemo destroys any rapidly dividing cells in my body, which unfortunately includes my entire gastro-intestinal tract.  My throat has a number of sores in it, causing me to gag every time I take a sip of water.  It’s kind of like drowning very politely - with my pinky finger out.  I’m having to learn new ways to swallow liquids that don’t leave me gasping for air.  However, even when I manage to swallow, there is only a 50% chance that it will stay down.  Almost anything can set me off: a smell, the sight of food, even sitting up too fast.  This morning I was practicing new swallowing techniques when my stomach decided it had had enough water and promptly sent it all back.  I’m hooked up to an IV 24/7 through which the nurses administer a number of anti-nausea drugs (Zofran, Compazine and Ativan for those of you playing along at home).  These drugs work to some degree but tend to make me pretty dopey all the time.

I will spare you the horrors of what is happening on the other end of the G-I tract, but assume it is at least as bad.

Despite all this, I usually wake up feeling pretty good each morning.  Having mastered the art of sleeping in the hospital (drugs and my own pillows are the key), I tend to feel my best in those first moments.  I wait for the doctors to make their rounds, where we discuss how everything is going, then make my way into the shower (with the IV pole still attached).  I get dressed, kiss my wife hello, change my bed, and try to eat.  By then, I’m physically exhausted and usually spend the rest of the day in a chair, napping or reading or watching tv.  The first thing I do each morning though, before the food or the shower or the doctors, is glance over at the calendar where the nurses have written my blood levels overnight.  Seven days now, I’ve been waiting for the WBC (white blood cell count) to read greater than 0.0.  It hasn’t happened yet, but when it does it will mean that my stem cells have found their way back to my bone marrow and have restarted my immune system.  From there it should only take a week or two before I am healthy enough to live outside of this HEPA-filtered room and can go home.  Until then, this is the boy in the bubble, missing you all and thinking of the good times we’ll have this winter.