I’m finding myself really annoyed lately by some of the articles and basically infomercials that are sent to me by other cancer patients I’ve connected with since my diagnosis. I’m all for a holistic approach to treating disease of all types, and I think intuitively people know the things they need to be doing in order to be healthy, even if they don’t want to do those things. Continue reading Quackery
Today I started my stem cell mobilization by receiving my last dose of rituxan (aka rituximab/mabthera). They started me out with a full bag of saline today, because the cyclophosphamide I will be given tomorrow can irritate my bladder and cause hemorrhagic cystitis and aggressive hydration (plus a drug called Mesna) is used to combat the potential bladder irritation. So I sat there for awhile while the saline dripped.
The nurse who accessed my port today told me that my port is in a little deeper than she’s used to seeing and because of that they should be using a little longer needle because the needle needs to sit near the back of the port for the medications to flow properly. I wrote before about a nurse making me sit with my shoulders stretched backward and my chest stuck out for nearly six hours, yelling at me whenever the drip slowed. Nice to know that could’ve been fixed by getting a longer needle into my port. The nurse today actually showed me how pressing the needle deeper effected the flow rate. It’s much easier to press on the port needle to increase the flow than to sit in an awkward posture for hours, but I won’t start cranking on about the nurses again.
So after my saline, they gave me some phenergan, the anti-histamine that makes me sleep like a stone… and grumpy if you try to keep me awake. Shortly after that the nurse who schedules all the procedures for my mobilization came to talk to me about everything that will be going on in the next few weeks. Thank God I have someone with me for these appointments because I was having trouble following her, and just keeping my eyes open really. She checked my arms for veins suitable to the harvest, and as suspected found none, so I’ll have to get a special line placed into my neck next Friday. I don’t remember much after all that.
So she left and I started to drift into slumberland, and along comes my oncologist. I don’t really even know what he was saying to me. Something about my rehab; something about how I’m feeling; I’m not even sure I was coherently responding to him.
Other than that things went entirely smoothly. I’m feeling a little tired, but that’s likely a response to the phenergan. Tomorrow I’ll be getting the cyclophosphamide… 😛 blech.