My nurse just started my pre-meds in anticipation of my first bag of chemo. I had just finished a robust dinner of brown meat on a bun--yummy, and taken my pills. Within seconds I was reaching for the everpresent bucket. Dinner reappeared in a new and liquid form.
The pre-meds were ones that I've had dozens of times before. A combination of zofran and a steroid. As soon as they hit my system, it was everyone for themselves.
As soon as I stopped throwing up I began to itch uncontrolaby from the neck down. I literally felt like an army of bugs was staking claim to me.
The nurses have never seen anything like this and we reassured them that this has never happened to me. The help with the sonic itching, I've been given a bag of benadryl. Sweet relief! Now only the big toe on my left foot itches. Of course, this now means that I'm ready for another nap thanks to the benadryl.
Chris suspects that DUC 8676 is fighting back. If he is, great. If he needs a road map to the cancer, just follow the flurescent chemicals to the marrow. You've been there once before, maybe you just lost your way.
Sitting before me in all of its golden splendor is a cup of Sporanox. I thought that I was done with this evil potion. Argh! I have to wait two hours after eating before I can take it. Since I threw everything up, I wonder if it matters. I'm going to take it and live dangerously.
I'll probably pass out in a few minutes. Chris may be tomorrow's blogger since I might feel a little wonky after a splendid cocktail of life prolonging chemo.