Driving my new car


 This is the metaphor that I prefer to use for the way that you adapt to changes in your body when a medical condition like cancer starts to affect you. We were here already once with Cro and now it's my turn.

It's a bit like driving a new car, or somebody else's car. Everything works slightly differently from what you are used to. It doesn't take the corners in the same way; you brake and nearly hit the windscreen; you try to flash the headlights and turn the wipers on instead. It's nothing big but it's disorientating and you have to adapt.

So how is the new car of my body + myeloma + chemotherapy drugs working? Well there are not many big differences yet, but some obvious ones.

My chemo involves big doses of steroids, which generally wake me up about 2 or 3 in the morning, alert and ready to do things, but the first time I took any I felt dog-tired and had to have a nap so it's not even completely predictable. But I'm used to the new steroid body clock now. Some people tell me that I have become more intense and talkative, and I have to admit that is probably the case. There are some things I will notice and there may be others that are only noticed by other people.

To get the unpleasant detail out of the way (and squeamishness and dignity disappear very early with cancer) one of the drugs makes you horribly constipated so you need to balance that out with other additives to your body to avoid very unpleasant consequences.

There is a little bit of nerve effect. You can get numbness in your extremities (not happened to me yet) but I've noticed my handwriting is less clear, so something is going on with nerves. 

I get a rash sometimes on the area where they do the chemo injection, but hydrocortisone calms that. I have to be careful about cuts as I'm on blood thinners.

The biggest obvious result of the cancer is some bone pain in my ribs and sternum. When I had to skip one week of chemo I realised how painful this is without the controlling chemo drugs, but most of the time it's just an irritation that means I can't do sit-ups and have to be careful how I lie down. But after you have done a painful movement once, you start to accommodate and eventually you hardly realise that you're avoiding it without thinking.

And of course when you notice these changes in your body you are always waiting for the next shoe to drop. When will the tiredness start ( a common side-effect) or the nausea (also common). It might not arrive, but you are very sensitive for any changes.

I know that when they do the stem cell transplant later this will all be small beer compared to the side effects of that procedure. Did I mention I will need to have all my childhood vaccinations all over again? (because the original ones are wiped out). And all my hair will likely fall out?

But for now it's all tweaks on the steering wheel and keep checking the oil. And I'm getting used to this new model.

Comments

  1. Great adapt and survive tactics X

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  2. Love the cartoon! Reminds me of Tweetie-pie and Sylvester cartoons which I still have in CD form...I got them for my grandchildren, because, when I was a little girl, my Granny used to take me to an old picture house in Liverpool called The Tatler, which showed American cartoons all day...simply to amuse me while my mother got some time to go shopping by herself...
    I loved them, and never forgot that magical place...

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  3. Will there be a stage in the treatment where you have to avoid contact with people, due to a much-reduced immune system?

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    Replies
    1. Yes, when they do the transplant I'll have literally no immunity at all for the first couple of weeks so it's all done with barrier nursing and no visitors at all. Then it steadily improves over a few months

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