Nausea = gnaws at ya

Seems my irrational fear of chemotherapy is becoming more rational.  If you read last Tuesday's post, you might have come away with the idea I survived the first day pretty splendidly and you would have been correct; the first few days, really.  The nurses at the infusion center liked to talk about the very good anti-nausea drugs they were giving you by IV, as if to say, "You are so lucky that chemo patients no longer have to worry about nausea." But at the same time, I've been hearing stories of loss of appetite and nausea so I had some clue that it was not yet perfect science.  The guy infusing in the lounge chair next to me looked on jealously as I mentioned I had a J-tube as a back up for nutrition.   The same guy also advised that I stay away from my favorite tastes when nausea set in because I would develop an "association".  True that.  All I have to do is think of the color of the delicious tropical juice blend I was getting in 3-liter bottles at Costco and I gag.

The nurses also warn you to push extra liquids because they don't want the chemicals hanging out in your kidneys.  I roll this over and over in my head as I watch the ice cubes melt in my full glass of water.

The nausea struck Thursday morning, the same morning as my next scheduled endoscopic dilation procedure.  That's the one where they put me under with versed  and stretch the opening in my throat so I can swallow textured foods again.  It was my fourth dilation but the first where I had the extra burden of gag sensitivity going in.

That morning I dutifully took my home-version of the ant-nausea drugs and waited for a relief that never came.  My friend David Hast showed up to take me to my appointment,  bringing along a homemade strawberry-rhubarb custard pie his wife Diane had baked for me for afterwards.  I had assured him I would be starving after the procedure and the dilation would afford me full swallows.

Dr. Farr, who had also performed the second dilation procedure a few weeks back, met me bedside before the procedure and  seemed concerned that I was needing them so frequently.  He then mentioned that he could probably teach me to do them myself. Excuse me, could you repeat that?

He went on to explain that it was possible to learn to tame your gag reflex and swallow a spacer device attached to a hose and stretch out your throat any time you felt like you needed it.  It could be learned.  Sword-swallowers do it.  But I couldn't quite get my mind around this idea.  Also, the timing of the suggestion was bad since I was so uvula-conscious this particular morning.

The procedure went fine, I guess, but I have no particular desire to swallow anything so perhaps it is wasted.  I seem to tolerate cottage cheese and applesauce, a tablespoon of each being the "meal" I put in my stomach before swallowing the oral chemotherapy drug I take twice daily for 14 days.  I am indeed grateful for the tube feedings each night that bypass the nausea effects.  I'm giving myself extra water through the J-tube every time I think of it as well.

Stephen avoiding the bumps in the road

On Friday I went in to the infusion center for a second dose of the IV chemicals.  Once again I was given the "good" anti nausea drugs through the IV and by lunch time I actually felt hungry.  My  chemotherapy escort buddy, Stephen, had thought to bring along a cooler full of food and drink options and I was grateful to recognize that nausea would not be a permanent condition.

Nurse Jana adjusted my home nausea medications by adding Ativan to the mix.  It is an anti-anxiety drug but it is supposed to compliment the Odansetron.  So now I am nauseous and sleepy.  I'm told they'll have other options to try but first I have to get through this weekend.

No infusions this week.  Just the twice a day pill.  On Tuesday I'll meet with Nurse Yolanda to look at blood test results and hopefully try something else for the nausea.

Sorry this post is so complainy.  Hope you didn't read it.