Half Yours won the Melbourne Cup ridden by female jockey Jamie Melham.

The day that stops a nation was memorable in other ways for me.  It was Infusion Day.

It began at 5 am, when I had blood pressure taken, shower at 6 am, breakfast at 8 am followed by the Registrar who came around and explained how the chemotherapy would be administered.

The nurse assigned to the task was carrying out this procedure for the very first time. As a result, she encountered some difficulty while attempting to insert a new cannula.

She tried about four spots and kept saying sorry.  The senior nurse came in eventually and put it in first attempt. It is still there in case I need any more drugs administered.

At 11.30 the Doxorubicin was first drug of my treatment. It stops cancer cell division and side effects include hair loss, nausea, fatigue and potential long-term heart damage. It glowed bright red and was administered slowly with a large syringe into the cannula by the junior nurse who was dressed from head to toe in plastic.  She was very nervous but was watched closely by her superior. It took about 15 minutes and we were all relieved when it was over. 

The next syringe held Vincristine which took about 10 minutes to infuse.  Apparently, this drug prevents cancer cells from forming new cells and triggers cell death. Side effects include Neuropathy in hands and feet, severe constipation, hair loss, fatigue, muscle weakness and low white blood cell count which increases risk of infection. Unaware of these dire side effects I was just happy that the young nurse was becoming more confident. 

Cyclophosphamide was next and this time I was hooked up to the machine for about an hour.  It works by damaging the DNA of cancer cells, preventing them from dividing and multiplying. Side effects include hair loss, nausea and reduced white blood cell counts. 

A saline drip was used between each application. The final infusion was to take four or five hours in case of an allergic reaction. Retuximab works by blocking the protein that causes cancer cells to grow and multiply.  Side effects can be fever, chills, rash and fatigue, even pneumonia! Every half hour a new bag was attached.   Some orderlies arrived to take me off for the breast biopsies but I was all tied up and couldn’t go.  My haematologist dismissed the biopsies and said they probably weren’t necessary as any anomalies in the breast could be put down to lymphoma.  I was in no position to argue. 

I’m home again.  Hard to believe but here I am.

This morning I thought I would be just resting but a nurse came in for three vials of blood before disappearing.  I had woken at 3.30 am and lay awake until 5 am when my blood pressure was taken. I must have dozed off until 7.30 am when the breakfast arrived.  Not sure when the vampire visit took place.

The haematologist came around and gave a prognosis.  75% to 80% chance of recovery after first six rounds of chemo.  If it failed I could do a second or a third round if necessary.  That seems a long way away and I’m surprisingly sanguine about the whole thing.

I was wheeled off for my MRI in my bed which felt very decadent.  My trolley pusher was a student at Wagga Uni doing early childhood education.  He was discussing it with another bed pusher. The MRI took about an hour and a half. I’m an old hand at these now.  I’m just glad I’m not paying for all these tests.

The Haematologist came back in.  He cancelled the heart fluid test as it was taking too long to organise.  He said if there was fluid around the heart it was because of the lymphoma and the treatment would sort it out.  I was happy to go home and called John.  We were not allowed to escape that easily as we had to wait for the Pharmacologist to explain all the medication and what it was for.  She drew up a chart which outlined what to take each day.  A nurse brought over some papers to sign and I was free.

Very happy to be home!

Maybe it was all a dream.  It didn’t happen and I will wake up in the morning as normal.  But no, there is a huge stack of tablets to take after breakfast.