Post #3 - The ABSOLUTE HORRORS of my 1st CHEMOTHERAPY TREATMENT - 11 DAYS OF COMPLETE HELL !

Please accept my apologies for the delay in writing this post. Time in hospital, then recovery had put my schedules back somewhat. So back to it, and away once again.

As mentioned in my earlier post, when I was first diagnosed with lung cancer the doctor explained my tumours were advanced, and should chemotherapy treatment not be scheduled for the immediate future he believed the cancer would kill me within two, possible three months at the most.

Some people support Chemo, some don’t. I had absolutely no idea which was the right choice or wrong one to make. With the doctor suggesting I had limited time left I went with what he had advised in an attempt to buy more time.

I guess one of the other reasons I chose chemo was my health was deteriorating rapidly by this stage. I was beginning to realize I was in a pretty bad way. I was unable to walk from my lounge to the bathroom and back without gasping for breath. It was so difficult to breath it had become a frightening experience. Learning not to panic, and to concentrate on regaining my breath seemed to take forever before I finally, to some degree, regained control of my breathing again. Fear really does become a reality when you wonder where your next breath is going to come from.

Trying to sleep was also a terrible experience. I was unable to lay down and sleep, I had to get whatever sleep I could by sitting upright in a lounge chair. Sitting upright made breathing easier.

Nevertheless, time arrived for me to have my first scheduled chemotherapy treatment. I was a little apprehensive to say the least. I had heard some people go through chemo without any problems at all, but others, a different story. I had been informed side effects like nausea and vomiting were common, tiredness, mouth sores, muscle pain, sleeplessness, hair loss, and more seriously, damage to the immune system left you exposed to greater risk of infection. But here I am, sitting in a lounge chair, in the cancer ward, waiting for my first chemo to be administered.

A few moments later my nurse arrives and gives me a quick examination. She checks my weight, blood pressure, pulse, breathing and temperature. No problems with the short medical so now the IV line goes into my arm, a tube is hooked up, and the pump is started. I see the fluid begin to flow down the tube and think, for better or for worse, here we go!

The chemo treatment lasted for two and a half hours. Once finished my nurse took out the IV, I was finished and on my way home.

The following six days was great. No side effects from the chemo what-so-ever. I thought I had got through the whole ordeal just fine … and then it began to happened!

I was beginning to feel a tightness in my chest, and was constantly coughing. I felt unwell in general, and started to run a fever. I had been warned by my chemo nurse, should I begin to feel unwell in any way I was to contact the hospital immediately due to the greater risk of infection while on chemotherapy.

I arrive at the Hospitals Accident and Emergency Department, I explain I have cancer and currently receiving chemotherapy and they admit me immediately. (It seemed unusual to walk into the A & E, see countless people waiting to be seen, yet be taken immediately. I guess when a person has no basic immune system they are not going to leave you sitting in a room with a whole lot of people with various sicknesses). On examination they found a chest infection had developed. They began administering antibiotics intravenously but by the following morning I was so unwell I wasn’t able to leave my bed. The doctor wanted me to try and cough to help break up the phlegm on my chest, but the pain when attempting to cough was just too great, I was unable to. So they increased the morphine, to kill the pain, to encouraged me to cough.

My breathing at this stage was worse than ever. I was on and off a machine to help with my breathing, although it didn’t seem to improve my condition all that much. There was some comfort being in hospital, at least I knew there were people there to help me if things got really out of control.

Although this confidence did diminish a little when an Oncology doctor arrived at my bedside to speak with me. He wanted to discuss how long I wanted them to continue to try and save my life once they had considered the battle was gone and lost. He went on to say at the end, once they had tubes down my throat in an attempt to keep me alive, and ultimately jumping on my chest to keep me breathing any hope of quality of life will have now ended. At what stage did I want them to basically leave me alone, and walk away?

Thinking about this for a few moments I came to the realization that I wouldn’t want my final days simply living as a vegetable. No fun in that! And how bad would it be for my wife and family to visit and continually witness me in this condition? It simply wouldn’t be fair on them either. When that moment ultimately arrives it would be far healthier that we all let go, accept the final reality of my condition, and for those I love to get back on with life as soon as humanly possible.

My decision: When the time arrives no tubes, no life support, let me leave as naturally as possible for the sake of all!

But I certainly aren’t there yet!

After five days in hospital the infection began to improve. I was beginning to feel better and breathing was on the improve. I was beginning to think that it would be no time at all and I would be back home again.

But it was not to be. All of a sudden, out of the blue my mouth begins to water. That awful queasy watery feeling you get just before being sick. I knew what was about to happen, and thankfully was able to get a bowl just in time. The following days were absolute hell. I just kept on being sick. I didn’t think anyone could ever be so sick, so many times, and live to tell the story. And when I didn’t actually vomit I dry- reached! I couldn’t eat, even the faintest smell of food the vomiting would start. Nausea and vomiting. It just wouldn’t stop. The hospital staff were trying different drugs in an attempt to control it, but it just carried on, and on, and on. Thankfully, a young doctor finally came up with the right drug which was able to contain it. The crazy thing is once this particular drug was administered, the nausea and vomiting stopped nearly as quickly as it started. Honestly, nausea and vomiting for continuous days is absolutely horrific, I hope I never have to experience it again.

Still, my problems hadn’t finished yet. After continuous nausea and vomiting for three days I woke the following morning to a realization of:

“I certainly ‘wasn’t’ hooked up to a urine-bag when I went to sleep last night. What’s happening?”

It seemed like only seconds after waking a nurse was at my bedside taking my blood-pressure, pulse and temperature. I asked her, “what has happened to me? I’m sure I wasn’t hooked up to a urine-bag when I went to sleep last evening”. She said that I wasn’t, and the bag was there so there was no need for me to get out of bed any time soon. Apparently during the course of the night I must have got up to go to the toilet. I wasn’t in my bed when the night nurse came to check on me so she begun to look to see where I was. She found me a little way from my bed, lying on the floor completely out cold and lifeless. They had begun running tests as they were not sure whether I had slipped and fallen, had I passed out before dropping to the floor, or for how long I had been unconscious.

Soon after a doctor come to speak with me as the nursing staff had reported I had appeared to be experiencing some form of confusion since the fall. The doctor said the small cell cancer which I have is extremely aggressive and can spread to other parts of the body quickly. He was concerned it may have spread to the brain. He wanted an immediate CT Scan to see if there was any evidence of cancer in the brain, also if I had done damage to the head area as a consequence of the fall.

Some good news at last. The CT Scan came back clear! No cancer in the brain, or evidence of damage caused to the head region from the fall.

Apart from my own doctor calling in on me once a day, I had a variety of student doctors speak with me at least four times a day. Each time asking questions like … what day was it – what hospital ward was I in - what year was it – what year was I born - when did the second world war end? I did realize there must have been some form of problem as I apparently had a difficulty remembering which year it was … I was sure it was either 2014 or 2015, obviously later to find we are definitely in 2016 :) :)

On the second day, not only was I being asked the “what year is it?” questions, I was also being repeatedly asked what my pain levels were like? Was I experiencing any increased pain, how would I score my pain from 0 – 10?

Long story short. What I had explained to me later was they were steadily decreasing the medications I was taking. From the time of my initial admittance I was given a quantity of various medications, pills for this and pills for that, I had drips going into both arms at one time, morphine and trial morphine patch, different drugs to stop the nausea and vomiting and so it goes on. As the effect of the medications slowly left my body – my memory increasingly returned.

Finally, my doctor was able to put the initial loss of consciousness, then confusion down to the amount of medication I had taken over the previous 11 days.

Finally, the day arrived when one of the trainee doctors stuck his head around the curtain and said with a huge smile, “your tests are finally all clear, here’s a list of the things you are still not allowed to do, but these are not going to stop you going home”. I am just going to write you a prescription for some medications you will need, complete your discharge papers, and you are out of here!” You can ring someone to come and pick you up. Awesome!!

After being in hospital and unable to eat or leave my bed for so long did have its consequences. By the time I got home I had lost a considerable amount of weight, I still felt very weak and tired, but you know what: I AM HOME AND I AM HAPPY!

And you know what just arrived in the mail on my 3rd day home … my next appointment for my 2nd Treatment of Chemotherapy :) :)

More to come soon, have a happy day.
Regards, Gary @garywilson

By sharing my experiences my hope is I can help and encourage other sufferers to remain positive and fight the battle, also provide important information to family members and friends who support those they love as they journey through this terrible disease.

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