I’ve had another request from a reader to say more about neuropathy. That topic segues into today’s front-line report about chemo quite nicely, in fact, so I will expound.
(If you can’t already tell, I got seven contiguous hours of sleep last night and the foggy post-treatment feeling has started to burn off. That combination takes me at least halfway back towards feeling human again.)
However: I still have lingering neuropathy in my legs and lower back. The wobble in my knees and ankles still gets to me when I’m on the stairs. But that feeling is no longer top-of-the-podium when it comes to weird and scary. Now, today, I also have the same feeling in the muscles along my rib cage. When I take a deep breath or blow my nose, those muscles cinch up and freeze, leaving me unable to exhale for a heartbeat. (Yes, it feels alarming, but it’s getting better as the day goes on.)
This sensation isn’t unusual, but it’s uncommon to have it now during round #3. The number one piece of advice about dealing with neuropathy in all its forms is, simply, not to panic. Panicking brings on anxiety, elevated blood pressure, and an increased sense of being unable to breathe. I took lorazepam this morning and it helped.
Number two is to stretch or try deep breathing exercises to gently relax those thin muscles. Neither worked comfortably for me (see previous mention of increasing anxiety). But the third bit of coping advice was a winner. Believe it or not, laughter helps: the short bursts of air pulse the affected muscles and helps them reset.
I got that last suggestion this morning, after which it occurred to me that I binge-watched The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel after treatment #2. In other words, the last time I had chemo, I laughed my way consistently through days 3, 4, and 5. I still felt neuropathy in my legs and hands – but not along my ribs.
As an experiment, this morning I queued up Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me! and The Poundstone Institute, and giggled my way into the early afternoon. I wouldn’t say the weird spasmy sensation is entirely gone, but it feels better. Or maybe I just feel better because I’ve got more oxygen, feel-good hormones, and knowledge coursing through my system. (Either way, I’ll take it.)
I do know that I’m getting a double-dose of medicines that frequently cause neuropathy: namely, Taxol and Neulasta. Google tells me that Taxol is a go-to treatment for over half a dozen cancers (including breast, lung, and prostate) and a few kinds of sarcoma. Neulasta is a universal follow-up chemo drug that helps protect/stabilize bone marrow. So I imagine there are lots of people out there who might find this information relevant to their own chemo aftermath.
If you, dear reader, or someone you love is going through chemo, you have my sympathy and my wishes for a quick effective recovery. As always, I hope this blog helps you somehow – and if you want to join me at the end of February for more laughter therapy, we can binge/twinge through my fourth round together.
medicinal sausage 