Drugs, Hugs and Losing My Jugs: A Breast Cancer Journal – June 15, 2015 – Day 4

UnfollowFollow Topic Be first Be firstThis is the twenty-fourth entry in a 31-day Breast Cancer Awareness Month exclusive series featuring the real journal entries of breast cancer survivor, Jessica Sliwerski. Read the previous entry here.

Day 0 is the day before chemo.

Day 1 is the day of chemo.

Day 2 is the day after chemo.

Day 3 is the day after the day after chemo.

Day 4 is the day you get fucked.

Chemo round 1 did not go so smoothly. After the dust settled, my oncologist figured out the problems. Despite cutting my steroid dose in half, the dose was still too high.

I had so much manic energy, I couldn’t sleep. I became overly exhausted. Add to this that I was taking a very strong anti-nausea med that I didn’t actually need to be taking.

Plus I was dehydrated.

Plus my blood counts were super low.

Plus I took two sedatives.

And edible marijuana.

It was the perfect storm.

Kyle had to call 911 and I was rushed to the emergency room. It was the scariest day of my life. Kyle will not talk about it.

I went into chemo round 2 thinking I had it all figured out. My oncologist further decreased my steroid dose and voila! I could sleep. I did nothing but rest from the time I came home from chemo through Day 4. I totally and completely yielded to my body. And I still ended up in the emergency room.

What the fuck?

I had chills and a fever. After chemo, any fever above 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit necessitates an immediate visit to the emergency room. Once there you are to say, “I had chemo. I have a fever.” When Kyle and I showed up (this time not via an ambulance), I said, “I’m back!”

Chemo fevers are treated with the utmost seriousness because of the fear of infection. They gave me one of those masks people wear on the subway and whisked me away to the VIP “sterile” neutropenia room. Everyone I passed along the way looked at me like, “Oh, shit. I don’t want what she has.”

I didn’t like that feeling, as it reminded me again that I am in purgatory — not sick, yet sick.

Once I was stowed away in my special chemo freak room, they checked my vitals and asked me important questions like, “Have you been to this hospital before?”

“Yes, three weeks ago. Don’t you remember me?!” The nurse did not remember me, but the attending doctor came in and recognized me right away. She was disappointed that my reason for being there was only a fever and not because I’d overdosed on edible marijuana.

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