Chris 1, Cancer 0
Today was the first day on the road to recovery. And, to be honest, I could not feel better. I know this sounds weird. When you receive chemo, you are not suppose to be at the highest of spirits. But, after a month and a half of the symptoms combined with all these tests, my state could not get much worse. Let me give you a run down for the day...
My appointment was scheduled for 10:00. First, I went through the usual weigh-in, blood pressure test, and temperature check. My weight is down to 160. If you would have asked me to put money on it, I would have said that I stayed at 161 or even went up. I have been eating better lately. O well, I will keep on doing my best to get my weight to 165.
After the usual tests, we met with my doctor. He explained the process as well as details on the treatment today. It was comforting to spend some time discussing all the little small things involved. Originally, I was told that the symptoms from the disease would go away within weeks. Now, he says that it should be a matter of days. Next, there are several different scenarios that I must be prepared for while going through chemo treatment. Most importantly, there are a few red flags that can force me to be admitted to the hospital. We went through several "what if" scenarios. Most notably, if my temperature raise above the 100.5 mark, I need to go to the hospital. If I reach that point, my body will not be able to fight it down, so they will need to administer different drugs to aid my immune system.
Once our discussion concluded, I was off to the chemo room. Let me give you an image of the chemotherapy treatment room. Windows cover the back of the room from left to right. There are a few TV's hanging from the ceiling. Recliners are lined up along the outline of the room with IV hangers close to their side. On the far left, the elderly crowd congregated. At the far end of the room, a talkative group of women sat discussing everything from children to clothes to their treatment. I found my way to the middle.
At first, I sat in a recliner situated by the elderly ladies. They were busy watching Dr. Phil on the television. After sitting down, I realized this was a mistake. Fortunately, a gentleman finished his treatment and asked if I wanted to take his seat in front of another television in the middle of the room. I happily obliged.
At this point, mom was no doubt getting nervous. The nurse came over to start my IV in the port. I was told that the insertion into the port would feel like a bee sting. I have not been stung by a bee in a while, but I am pretty sure this stung worse. Before the treatment could start, she had to inject one of the drugs into my arm to see the reaction of my body. After the injection, we had to wait thirty minutes. During that span of time, the nurse went through a folder of materials with us. I do not think we left any stones unturned. At the conclusion of the thirty minutes, mom had to leave the room.
With mom gone, the nurse started by giving me anti-nausea drugs. After fifteen minutes, she started inserting three of the chemotherapy drugs into the IV. One by one, she finished each injection with 20 minute intervals. Finally, at the end, the last drug was administered through a drip bag that took around 45 minutes. Lastly, she pulled the IV out of the pump. It was an odd feeling.
During the treatment, I did not feel any pain. All in all, the chemotherapy treatment lasted around an hour and a half. The process was laid back. I even spoke on the phone for thirty minutes with our school board vice president, Mark Holderman. For the remainder of the time, I listened to music on my iPod and read a book. At one point, my mom came to visit with the doctor who started me off on this process. It was a great surprise, and I was happy to see him again.
I could not say enough kind things about my nurses today. From the time I walked into the door, the receptionist greeted me with a big smile and began to discuss all the media coverage from last week. I have been in the office a few times now, but still, I believe every nurse in the office new my name. The little things go a long way. The nurse who administered my chemo treatment is like a mother. She did every little thing to make sure I was comfortable (blankets, candy, juice, water, you name it). Lastly, as I was walking out of the office, one of the nurses in the general office area was on the phone. I quietly waved good-bye and said thank you. Instead of carrying on with her phone conversation, she put the caller on hold and made sure that my day went well. Good people, good people.
Once I arrived home from the hospital, I crawled underneath my covers. I managed to eat some lunch- a glass of iced-tea, beef and vegetable soup, and a hot pretzel. It did not take me long to drift off to sleep after this meal. When I woke up, I was sweating a bit. The chemotherapy made my sweat have an odd smell. Even funnier, the taste of water had changed by the time I woke up. The nurse had warned me that the taste of certain foods and drinks would change during this treatment process.
Starting this week, the baseball team is delivering meals to our house. From what I understand, families are signed up all the way through July. The mother helping coordinate the efforts has even been receiving emails and calls from families outside of our team who want to participate. My family could not be more thankful for all the support. My mom has lived her life as a "giver." She openly admits that she is not a good "receiver" when it comes to gifts and help. Regardless, we were blessed with a great meal, cartons of bottled water and gatorade as well as a goodie basket for me filled with the newest movie release "Walk the Line."
Over the past two months, I helped a family from Alabama who is moving to Powell find a travel baseball team for their son. They received my email address from a friend of a friend. Anyway, the mother emailed me today thanking me for my help, but also to express her support and prayers for my recovery. She has been following my story through the newspaper. In her email, she left me with this passage from Jeremiah.
My appointment was scheduled for 10:00. First, I went through the usual weigh-in, blood pressure test, and temperature check. My weight is down to 160. If you would have asked me to put money on it, I would have said that I stayed at 161 or even went up. I have been eating better lately. O well, I will keep on doing my best to get my weight to 165.
After the usual tests, we met with my doctor. He explained the process as well as details on the treatment today. It was comforting to spend some time discussing all the little small things involved. Originally, I was told that the symptoms from the disease would go away within weeks. Now, he says that it should be a matter of days. Next, there are several different scenarios that I must be prepared for while going through chemo treatment. Most importantly, there are a few red flags that can force me to be admitted to the hospital. We went through several "what if" scenarios. Most notably, if my temperature raise above the 100.5 mark, I need to go to the hospital. If I reach that point, my body will not be able to fight it down, so they will need to administer different drugs to aid my immune system.
Once our discussion concluded, I was off to the chemo room. Let me give you an image of the chemotherapy treatment room. Windows cover the back of the room from left to right. There are a few TV's hanging from the ceiling. Recliners are lined up along the outline of the room with IV hangers close to their side. On the far left, the elderly crowd congregated. At the far end of the room, a talkative group of women sat discussing everything from children to clothes to their treatment. I found my way to the middle.
At first, I sat in a recliner situated by the elderly ladies. They were busy watching Dr. Phil on the television. After sitting down, I realized this was a mistake. Fortunately, a gentleman finished his treatment and asked if I wanted to take his seat in front of another television in the middle of the room. I happily obliged.
At this point, mom was no doubt getting nervous. The nurse came over to start my IV in the port. I was told that the insertion into the port would feel like a bee sting. I have not been stung by a bee in a while, but I am pretty sure this stung worse. Before the treatment could start, she had to inject one of the drugs into my arm to see the reaction of my body. After the injection, we had to wait thirty minutes. During that span of time, the nurse went through a folder of materials with us. I do not think we left any stones unturned. At the conclusion of the thirty minutes, mom had to leave the room.
With mom gone, the nurse started by giving me anti-nausea drugs. After fifteen minutes, she started inserting three of the chemotherapy drugs into the IV. One by one, she finished each injection with 20 minute intervals. Finally, at the end, the last drug was administered through a drip bag that took around 45 minutes. Lastly, she pulled the IV out of the pump. It was an odd feeling.
During the treatment, I did not feel any pain. All in all, the chemotherapy treatment lasted around an hour and a half. The process was laid back. I even spoke on the phone for thirty minutes with our school board vice president, Mark Holderman. For the remainder of the time, I listened to music on my iPod and read a book. At one point, my mom came to visit with the doctor who started me off on this process. It was a great surprise, and I was happy to see him again.
I could not say enough kind things about my nurses today. From the time I walked into the door, the receptionist greeted me with a big smile and began to discuss all the media coverage from last week. I have been in the office a few times now, but still, I believe every nurse in the office new my name. The little things go a long way. The nurse who administered my chemo treatment is like a mother. She did every little thing to make sure I was comfortable (blankets, candy, juice, water, you name it). Lastly, as I was walking out of the office, one of the nurses in the general office area was on the phone. I quietly waved good-bye and said thank you. Instead of carrying on with her phone conversation, she put the caller on hold and made sure that my day went well. Good people, good people.
Once I arrived home from the hospital, I crawled underneath my covers. I managed to eat some lunch- a glass of iced-tea, beef and vegetable soup, and a hot pretzel. It did not take me long to drift off to sleep after this meal. When I woke up, I was sweating a bit. The chemotherapy made my sweat have an odd smell. Even funnier, the taste of water had changed by the time I woke up. The nurse had warned me that the taste of certain foods and drinks would change during this treatment process.
Starting this week, the baseball team is delivering meals to our house. From what I understand, families are signed up all the way through July. The mother helping coordinate the efforts has even been receiving emails and calls from families outside of our team who want to participate. My family could not be more thankful for all the support. My mom has lived her life as a "giver." She openly admits that she is not a good "receiver" when it comes to gifts and help. Regardless, we were blessed with a great meal, cartons of bottled water and gatorade as well as a goodie basket for me filled with the newest movie release "Walk the Line."
Over the past two months, I helped a family from Alabama who is moving to Powell find a travel baseball team for their son. They received my email address from a friend of a friend. Anyway, the mother emailed me today thanking me for my help, but also to express her support and prayers for my recovery. She has been following my story through the newspaper. In her email, she left me with this passage from Jeremiah.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the Lord.
Jeremiah 29:11-14
posted by Chris at 10:03 PM
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