I’ve had a request from a reader: he asked me to list all the medications I’m receiving and/or taking, along with the side effects I can attribute to each one. That feels like a better use of explaining this particular part of the post-treatment malaise. I’m not really doing anything significant today – or tomorrow – other than taking said meds, eating, sleeping, and/or sitting.
A few caveats:
- Everybody’s experience with chemo drugs differs greatly, which renders the official lists of side effects pretty pointless. With that in mind, this entry is a reflection of what I am going through. You or yours might have it better, worse, or entirely other.
- Take EVERY drug you are told to take, on time, and in the right amount. Period. I would also add that it’s crucial to take any extra support meds BEFORE you feel the symptoms they relieve – for me, that’s Imodium, Advil, B vitamins, and Compazine. If you can stay ahead of the nausea and the body aches particularly, you’ll sleep better, you’ll feel more relaxed, and you’ll have less anxiety. If you wait, you’ll have to take more pills to get your body response down to comfortable levels and that means more time feeling sick.
- If you’ve scanned this list already, you can see that it’s long. For that reason – and because timing is everything, especially during the first 2 to 5 days after each treatment – I keep a detailed notebook. It helps me remember when I took which drug, how much I took, and which side effects I felt starting when. Treatment leaves me feeling so different, so out of sorts, that I just can’t rely on memory alone.
- I’ve also got a lot of side effects that can’t be attributed to just one drug. I’m dead dog tired, kinda light-headed, I’ve got deep muscle and joint aches, and my short-term memory is faulty. These are the three commonplace side effects that everyone seems to feel, no matter what their cocktail is made of. That’s just how this roller coaster tends to go.
And now, the list.
Claritin: A new addition to the cocktail as of this round. It’s just what you think: the over-the-counter allergy pills, one every 24 hours. Its purpose is to (hopefully) combat the neuropathy that knocked me sideways during round 1. I took the first dose the morning of the infusion, and I’ve taken subsequent doses each morning since. It does make me feel jittery and tired simultaneously, which is a downside. But so far, there’s less numbness or tingling, so I am not complaining one bit.
Taxol: One of the chemo meds I receive during treatment; I’ll get six doses in total by the time I’m through if everything goes according to plan. I’m not sure what it does specifically, but it kills all sorts of fast-growing cells in addition to whatever traces of cancer might still be in me. These cells include hair follicles, taste buds, the sensitive linings in my mouth and nose, and so on. It also causes neuropathy – numbness and tingling – which I am feeling in my hands and feet. The other side effects for me thus far have been losing my hair, little cracks in the soles of my feet, dry mouth, and one nosebleed: All of those are manageable and temporary. The neuropathy could be far more serious and needs thoughtful tending: More on that further down.
Carboplatin: The other chemo med I receive during treatment: I’ll get six doses in total, too, if the plan holds true. I am also unsure on the details about what this drug is doing and frankly that’s on purpose: I made the decision early on that I would not, NOT, Google anything because my doctors provided enough for my peace of mind. Other cancer patients/survivors have told me that sensitivity to cold is the worst side effect of Carboplatin – of all cancer drugs that contain platinum – and damn am I feeling it. I live in a drafty old house in a frigid climate and we’re going through a spate of unusually subzero temperatures. So I’m layering indoors like I layer for outdoors on a chilly autumn day. Woolly hats, scarves, fingerless gloves, and fleece are my best friends.
Other infusion meds: We have yet to receive the itemized bill for any of the treatments; that breakdown will tell me exactly what else I’m getting. I know, generally, that I get steroids, anti-anxiety meds, allergy meds, and some sort of antibiotic. I’m unaware of all their side effects but I know they are supposed to support and/or mitigate the work that Taxol and Carboplatin are doing. I’m also pretty sure they are supposed to encourage me to sit and relax, if not sleep, for the duration of the six-hour marathon. I predict I’ll know more within the next month or so. More coming soon.
Neulasta: This is the name of a device that gets attached to my upper arm before I leave the hospital, not the antibiotic it dispenses about a day and a half after later. Whatever it contains also causes neuropathy, muscle aches, and pain at the site where the little needle sticks in. May I add that EACH UNIT costs $10,000 and I’ll go through six before this is over? Ouch. I feel obligated to add sticker shock, an uncomfortable sense of privilege, and utter dismay over the American pharmaceutical industry’s pricing structure to this list of side effects. Seriously: ouch.
Zofran: This is an anti-nausea drug I take for two days, starting the day after an infusion. It helps me stay hydrated and fed, for me it works beautifully, and I’m profoundly grateful for it. The side effects I feel are headache, dizziness, constipation, and drowsiness – all to a manageable degree. Regarding the constipation, though, remember I have Crohn’s Disease. ‘Constipation’ in my innards just reduces my output to what everyone else considers normal. REAL constipation is serious. Treat it as such.
Decadron: This is a corticosteroid that reduces inflammation and immune system response. I take it for two days, starting the day after an infusion. I suspect it has the sneaky benefit of stimulating my appetite, which is a good thing because you should take it with food to protect your stomach.
Compazine: This is the other nausea medication prescribed to me, which I can take more frequently between doses of Zofran. I take Compazine precisely back to back, starting two days after each infusion, and I’ve learned to take it preventatively for carsickness during the first two weeks as well.
Advil: I didn’t take Advil after the first treatment – I took a ‘stronger’ prescription – and I paid for it. Advil works on pain and inflammation like nothing else, and I take Advil specifically because the coating protects my stomach better than the generic. Take it with food or milk, take it precisely on time, and if it works for you stay on it.
B vitamin supplements: I’ve started taking a B vitamin complex to get more B6 and B12, as a prevention against neuropathy. My oncologist said that B vitamin deficiencies can be present when someone starts chemo, which intensifies or brings on neuropathy symptoms. You do have to take it with food, and it’s also a good idea to eat more foods containing B vitamins too. My nutritionist suggested beef especially (more sausage, anyone?) until I’m done with the chemo. Fortunately I can still taste just enough beefy flavor to make it yummy. I hope that doesn’t change.
Imodium: An over-the-counter drug that fights cramping, diarrhea, and other gastrointestinal distress. Do NOT take Pepto Bismol instead: my oncologist says it contains an aspirin substance that’s a dangerous combo with other meds on this list. Also, Pepto can bind to other drugs in your system, reducing or eliminating their effectiveness. I take Imodium judiciously because of the constipating effect I already mentioned re: Zofran. Thus far, I’ve only really needed it once or twice during the two weeks after chemo. But I can take as many as 8 pills a day, staggered out as needed, and that dosage control is wonderful.
Lorazepam: This tiny little pill is a miracle drug that works on anxiety and also, as a complete bonus, nausea. The standard dose is also very small so you can take a little more if you need it, in between the Compazine and the Zofran. I think of Lorazepam as the ‘rescue inhaler’ in my little suite of nausea drugs because it does make me extra sleepy even on its own. Here’s a special tip, though: in many states it’s a controlled substance, so if someone else is picking up your meds, s/he might need your I.D. Call ahead and find out for sure.
medicinal sausage 