Danger! Danger! Will Robinson!

It's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.—Alice in Wonderland

*Note: My chemo experiences took place in April of 2021.*

By the end of the week of my first chemo, I was struggling with fatigue and dizziness when standing for too long. It wasn’t until a full week after that I began to feel better. At my next appointment with MacDuff, I told him. His assertion was that I was suffering from dehydration. For the next chemo, he scheduled two more hydration days, which means I was at the infusion center five days during chemo week rather than just three. Ohhhkay, my husband was not thrilled! As the country was still dealing with Covid restrictions, he normally did not come for chemo infusion as it was a long day, but he did come on the hydration days. Still, it was normally three hours of sitting in an uncomfortable chair waiting. 

To keep this new schedule more interesting and my husband on his toes, my body decided to play a new trick. My second round of chemo was approaching and I was feeling mostly back to normal, which seems to be how it all works. Just when you’re feeling good, it’s time to inject another round of poison! Even with the extra hydration, I was having the same issues with fatigue and dizziness. The morning of the final hydration day, I was feeling like crap. However, I desperately needed to shower. My husband said I didn’t need to. I insisted that I did. I REALLY did. A double application of deodorant was not going to do the trick. Plus, I thought a shower would help me feel better. However, I was aware enough to be concerned about my being able to safely stand for a short shower. Luckily, our insurance company has a benefit program to purchase over the counter medicine, vitamins, medical supplies at no extra cost. A few months earlier, I used my portion to purchase a shower chair. After all, my husband would probably need it someday. Certainly not me! 

I told my husband to get the chair and put it in the shower. It wouldn’t take me long. Famous last words. I was sitting there enjoying the warm water flowing over me. It felt so good. This would be a good time to take a little nap.  The next thing I remember is my husband struggling to open the shower door to reach in, pushing me so my head would hit the wall and not trap the door closed. I was in and out of it from there on. I do recall him being frantic and saying he didn’t know what to do. What did he do? He called the infusion center and told them I wasn’t coming in because I was passed out in the shower. The nurse he spoke to said, “Let me stop you right there. Call 911 now!” Ya know, a few years earlier when he was laying on the floor of the living room during his cardiac arrest, I didn’t stop and think, “I guess this changes dinner plans for the evening. Wonder what I should do now? Maybe I’ll give 911 a call and see if they have suggestions.” I shouldn’t be too hard on him, he is doing his best now to pay me back for saving his life.

By the time the EMTs arrived, I had managed to get out of the shower and was sitting on the toilet (lid down!) with a couple of towels draped around me. The two EMTs, ages 15 and 16, came into the bathroom and were asking questions I could not at the moment fully comprehend. Our dog,  Daisy, was eager to tell them as much as she knew about what was happening.  It had something to do with how this was upsetting her morning schedule and her second breakfast treats. The EMT’s supervisor arrived a few minutes later. Daisy did NOT like him at all. Probably because he was delaying her treats even longer. 

They determined I needed to go to the ER. I was still sitting on the toilet wrapped in towels that were slipping dangerously. I didn’t have the energy to hold on to them. They asked my husband if I had a robe to wear. I have two robes. He went to our bedroom and returned with the wrong one. “I don’t want THAT one! Get the purple one.” Sheesh! I may be at Death’s door, but if I go it’s going to be in something glamorous! Men have no sense of fashion.

This was my first ride in an ambulance. No siren, so I guess that meant Death wasn’t following that closely. I remember watching the blood pressure monitor and noting how low it was. My BP is usually in the 120/80 range. At that moment it was hovering around 70/57. I bet that’s not good. I tried not to focus on it, but there was nothing else to do so I watched it fluctuate and slowly rise to 115/65. Ha! Not today, Death, not today!

In the ER, they did a chest x-ray and a few minutes later whisked me over for a CT scan. This isn’t my first time at this rodeo, so I figured that chest X-ray showed something that needed a clearer picture. Now that I have one lung, was it complaining about the double duty? After the scan, the ER doctor, age 20, said I had a blood clot in my left lung. I’ve watched enough medical shows on TV to know that a blood clot is a pulmonary embolism. In those shows, the patient with PE usually didn’t make it. Gulp.  Doctor Doogie said he was ordering Heparin blood thinner to begin infusing asap. They would need me to stay overnight IF they had an available bed that was not on the Covid floor. 

At that time, I had received my first Covid vaccine, but I was not ready to test its efficacy on a Covid floor, thank you very much. Unfortunately, there was no room at their inn. I was transported to the hospital where I had my left lung removed. Not in the premier suite I had then, though. I ended up being on the Heparin drip for three days before I reached the level safe enough to send me home with pill form. My stay was mostly uneventful. Great nurses and staff! However, there was a patient down the hall from me that liked to wail intermittently throughout the night, “Helllp me!! Nurse! Help me!” I could hear someone asking what he needed, but I think it was about wanting to leave. I found out the next day they were strapping him down because he kept pulling out IVs. I started keeping my door closed at night.

Part of my entertainment during my stay were the student nurses being grilled by a cranky supervisor. “You need to double check everything! This is what it’s about being a nurse!” 

As I never finished my shower at home, by day two I was really getting ripe. With an IV line in each arm, I needed assistance cleaning up. A student nurse brought me a washcloth, towel, clean gown, and the complimentary bag of the worst toiletries made. I told her I was capable of getting to the bathroom and washing myself while she changed the bed linen. Everything was going swell until I tried to put on the gown. The snaps were not lining up in any manner that made sense. Finally I gave up and called her for help. She struggled to line up the snaps as well. We were both laughing and I asked, “Don’t they have a tutorial for this in nursing school?” She giggled, “No, but I may make a suggestion it be added to the curriculum.” I said, “Maybe also suggest a new design!”

The Monday after I was released, I saw MacDuff. He entered the room and exclaimed, “I’m very glad to see you!” Then threw his hands skyward in a gesture of thanks. I guess he was worried. He explained that I had not just one, but multiple pulmonary embolisms. He thought it may have been happened because of the lung surgery. 

So, Death did come knocking dangerously close. Again, I did not exhibit the usual symptoms for PE up until passing out. With blood thinner medication, these will eventually break up and be absorbed into the body. Due to this issue, MacDuff decided to push my next chemo round off a week, which I eagerly agreed was a great idea. 

The pandemic affected my scheduling for doctor appointments and tests. By this time I had been to 7 different hospitals. I didn't leave the house except for appointments and to walk the dog. Always double masked, not touching anything, carrying my own pen for signing papers, bathing in sanitizer, washing hands, staying well beyond 6 feet of anyone that wasn’t a medical person. I hadn’t resorted to shouting “Dead woman walking!” I was doing my best to stay positive and upbeat. I CAN do this.