Each round is both better and worse
Fourth treatment of chemo done! Now to 'enjoy' my side effects for a week or so, recover a few days, and I'm done with my second cycle!
It really is all routine by now: Dane drops me off at the oncology day clinic, I happily greet all the nurses and other patients (always gezellig!), find an open chair and get myself comfortable. The nurses hook the IV up to my PICC line and then over the course of three hours or so, all of the drugs are administered. To pass the time, I mostly look at my phone and text my mother (who always wakes up before the crack of dawn in Philly to keep me company!) and Dane. I try to stomach some lunch from the hospital - it's tasty but my body now associates it with chemo - and I chat with the nurses to practice my Dutch every time they're attending to my frantically beeping infusion pump. I get my PICC line cleaned and redressed at some point during the chemo and once we're all done, the nurses attach the Neulasta OBI and I'm good to go!
But, boy, does it all get heavier each time! By the end of treatment, I could hardly keep my eyes open. Fresh air afterwards helped, but my bike ride home was a little rocky. Putting too much effort into biking got me pretty nauseous. Dane luckily has the patience of an angel, happily biking at a snail's pace across the city and even pushing me up some bridges. Worse yet, my emotions were suddenly all over the place.
It was another gorgeous spring day so we stopped over the Amstel river to take a nice picture. As I was trying to frame it, a random biker essentially side-swiped me - the way many tourists probably experience Amsterdam. There was no contact, but it was a very deliberate scare. At first I was just pissed mumbling some words I won't repeat here. But then once we kept moving, the altercation had me suddenly bawling my eyes out. Why would he do that? I was just so happy to enjoy this view! But he ruined it, how dare he, he doesn't know what I'm going through, blah blah blah, wah wah wah.
Your brain sure can make something big out of something small in the blink of an eye - especially when it's in a fog with so many different medicines. With some help from Dane, the drama was gone as quickly as it came. I decided to conclude that that jerk was one of those true assholes that would mess with tourists or maybe he was just a vigilante for social distancing and he was worried to see tourism returning to the city. That's sort of noble, I guess? Anyway, the picture was worth it and I still managed to enjoy the rest of my bike ride.
To close off, I've got some exciting weeks ahead. Now that I'm more or less done with my second cycle, it's time for my interim PET scan tomorrow...spannend! That'll give us the full picture of how the cancer is responding to treatment to determine where we go from here. The results will be discussed among the full medical team this coming Tuesday. When they'll get back to me is not 100% clear but my next appointment with the lead hematologist is Monday, May 25, and I presume that we will make a final choice then.
If the PET scan results are good I will either have: three more cycles of A(B)VD chemotherapy (dropping the B) OR one more cycle of chemo AND radiation. That depends on a close weighing of the long-term side effect risks of the treatment options: namely if the radiation to my chest and neck would be certain to not touch surrounding healthy tissue. Radiation is ever so slightly more effective at wiping out the final cancer cells but it may also raise the risks especially of secondary cancers down the line.
Should the scan show an insufficient response, then I'll be upscaled to a more intensive chemotherapy, EscBEACOPP, and radiation. On the bright side, the survival rates of this treatment plan are similarly as high but they do pose higher side effect risks. Let's just all keep our fingers crossed :-)
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| Another milestone! (notice the sweet side shave?) |
It really is all routine by now: Dane drops me off at the oncology day clinic, I happily greet all the nurses and other patients (always gezellig!), find an open chair and get myself comfortable. The nurses hook the IV up to my PICC line and then over the course of three hours or so, all of the drugs are administered. To pass the time, I mostly look at my phone and text my mother (who always wakes up before the crack of dawn in Philly to keep me company!) and Dane. I try to stomach some lunch from the hospital - it's tasty but my body now associates it with chemo - and I chat with the nurses to practice my Dutch every time they're attending to my frantically beeping infusion pump. I get my PICC line cleaned and redressed at some point during the chemo and once we're all done, the nurses attach the Neulasta OBI and I'm good to go!
But, boy, does it all get heavier each time! By the end of treatment, I could hardly keep my eyes open. Fresh air afterwards helped, but my bike ride home was a little rocky. Putting too much effort into biking got me pretty nauseous. Dane luckily has the patience of an angel, happily biking at a snail's pace across the city and even pushing me up some bridges. Worse yet, my emotions were suddenly all over the place.
It was another gorgeous spring day so we stopped over the Amstel river to take a nice picture. As I was trying to frame it, a random biker essentially side-swiped me - the way many tourists probably experience Amsterdam. There was no contact, but it was a very deliberate scare. At first I was just pissed mumbling some words I won't repeat here. But then once we kept moving, the altercation had me suddenly bawling my eyes out. Why would he do that? I was just so happy to enjoy this view! But he ruined it, how dare he, he doesn't know what I'm going through, blah blah blah, wah wah wah.
Your brain sure can make something big out of something small in the blink of an eye - especially when it's in a fog with so many different medicines. With some help from Dane, the drama was gone as quickly as it came. I decided to conclude that that jerk was one of those true assholes that would mess with tourists or maybe he was just a vigilante for social distancing and he was worried to see tourism returning to the city. That's sort of noble, I guess? Anyway, the picture was worth it and I still managed to enjoy the rest of my bike ride.
 |
| Over the Amstel with the luxurious Amstel Hotel to the right and the Stopera (city hall & opera) in the distance |
To close off, I've got some exciting weeks ahead. Now that I'm more or less done with my second cycle, it's time for my interim PET scan tomorrow...spannend! That'll give us the full picture of how the cancer is responding to treatment to determine where we go from here. The results will be discussed among the full medical team this coming Tuesday. When they'll get back to me is not 100% clear but my next appointment with the lead hematologist is Monday, May 25, and I presume that we will make a final choice then.
If the PET scan results are good I will either have: three more cycles of A(B)VD chemotherapy (dropping the B) OR one more cycle of chemo AND radiation. That depends on a close weighing of the long-term side effect risks of the treatment options: namely if the radiation to my chest and neck would be certain to not touch surrounding healthy tissue. Radiation is ever so slightly more effective at wiping out the final cancer cells but it may also raise the risks especially of secondary cancers down the line.
Should the scan show an insufficient response, then I'll be upscaled to a more intensive chemotherapy, EscBEACOPP, and radiation. On the bright side, the survival rates of this treatment plan are similarly as high but they do pose higher side effect risks. Let's just all keep our fingers crossed :-)
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