Thursday: First day of chemo

Today Bill had his first dose of chemo and so far, nothing (much) has happened to him!

We drove there through horribly snow-deep streets, in 4WD, early, and by noon, he was hooked up to the methotrexate, which is a tiny bag of greenish-yellow clear liquid. (No, it was NOT absinthe, but sure looked like it.) It only takes a half hour to drip in. Well, first he got what they call pre-meds which means bags of medicines that prepare him for the chemo, and those had to drip in first.

At the end of the methotrexate, he got the vinblastine, which turned out just to be a regular looking shot in a little syringe. Didn't even have its own drip bag. Kind of a disappointingly wimpy looking thing, given a name like VIN! BLAST! STINE! which, to me, sounded like STAND BACK, YE WEAK OF HEART! WOMEN, HIDE YOUR CHILDREN! I'M THE VALIANT AND TERRIBLE VINBLASTINE, and I'LL BE TAKING OVER FROM HERE!

Nope. Just a quiet little *squirt*.

Anyway. We talked about hospitalization to the oncologist, and she didn't think it was necessary today, because the drugs he got today, she said, will have almost no effect on him. But the thing is, he has to drink VAST amounts of water.

As the weeks go by, the chemicals have a cumulative effect, and eventually he might not have an uneventful experience like today's, and he might not be able to drink the water, (or keep food down) and then he would get hospitalized for IVs between the M and V chemicals and the C chemical (cisplatin).

But luckily, the C chemical only happens ONCE in every cycle of chemo, and a cycle is three weeks, so the hospital risk only arises once every three weeks. We were thinking he'd have to go to the hospital once a week.

On the other hand.....after what Dr. Torti said, that he usually hospitalizes people between the M and V (today) and the C (tomorrow)...we are thinking, oh man, is it RIGHT that we're not getting hospitalized? EEEEEEEyikes! But Bill is chugging away, downing all the liquids he can get his hands on, so it seems okay.

So as of this minute, Bill feels only tiredness--and just now he added "shakiness" to his description (you can picture me asking him a little too often: "Feel anything yet?....Feel anything NOW?......How about NOW?") My caregiver style has an "overly-hovering" quality to it.

About tomorrow--Friday--they warned us that the bomber drug takes many hours to administer, so we should expect to be there most of the day. You know I'll write as soon as we are home. And almost certainly I will post something every day for a while, to satisfy and/or amuse the deeply curious.

The mildly curious among you can just catch up whenever the spirit moves you.

Again, as always, we are profoundly grateful that you care enough to think of us and wish us well. Love to you right from our hearts.

B&B