With a nod to Jimi Hendrix and Shel Silverstein. Really.
Every round of chemo has given me different side effects, including some odd symptoms that I have never experienced before. It brings to mind a Shel Silverstein poem from my childhood entitled “Sick”. My list of ailments over the past few months is almost as preposterous as Peggy Ann’s. Chemotherapy attacks all fast growing cells, including beneficial cells found in the digestive tract, mouth, hair and nails, so it throws everything out of whack. About a week post-chemo, I find myself with neutropenia, an abnormally low count of neutrophils, a type of white blood cell that helps fight off infections. This has left me susceptible to all kinds of sickness. Here are of some of the things I’ve faced:
Chemo has been quite a ride.
I’ve fought back with strength and pride.
Neuropathy gives my toe tingles.
I came down with a case of shingles.
Boils, pains, insomnia, and rash.
Nasty gastrointestinal distress.
Exhaustion and anemia.
Bronchitis, cold sores, and alopecia.
Flu-like symptoms, extreme fatigue,
All these things I just don’t need.
Low white blood cells cause infection,
Low red blood cells cause exhaustion.
Hot Flashes! Chemopause
is their cause.
One eye twitches, one knee aches.
Now and then my fever bakes.
My lymph nodes swell where cysts dwell.
I am not well!
But all this amends
when chemo ends.
On Tuesday, I went in for my weekly labs, and we discovered that my slowly dropping red blood cell count had dropped to a level at which the doctor recommended a blood transfusion. Short on time, because I had to pick my kids up, I asked if we could postpone. I also wanted to learn more before I underwent a blood transfusion. I scheduled it for Friday and went home to ask questions. I learned that the chemo has been attacking my blood cells (as it does all rapidly growing cells). A low red blood cell count causes weakness, shortness of breath and extreme fatigue. I knew chemo was causing me fatigue, which has crept up on me cumulatively over the course of my treatment, but it has become extreme lately. I live on the second floor. I can only make it up half way before I start huffing and puffing and slowing down. I wake up after 10-12 hours of sleep needing a 3-4 hour nap. I think I could sleep all day, in fact.
I went back to the Vince Lombardi Cancer Clinic on Friday, fully prepared to spend five or so hours receiving a blood transfusion, but my labs came back showing a slight rise in my red blood cell count, taking me out of the critical zone. The doctor advised waiting on the transfusion since my body is trying to recover on its own and I only face one more round of chemo. So, armed with the information that my body is fighting back, I went home and took a three hour nap. Guess I’m just going to have to deal with extreme fatigue a while longer. Excuse me, while I take a nap.
And now, a real poem…
“I cannot go to school today,”
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
“I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I’m going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox
And there’s one more–that’s seventeen,
And don’t you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut–my eyes are blue–
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I’m sure that my left leg is broke–
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button’s caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,
My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is–what?
What’s that? What’s that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G’bye, I’m going out to play!”