Another world

Sometimes I feel like I've entered a world that I don't want to be apart of, but I am here and there is no way to leave.  I wonder sometimes, "How did I get here?"  I take a guess at when it all began, but like so many things in life, there really is no tangible beginning.  Was it when Michael was diagnosed?  No, he already had cancer.  Was it when Michael was born?  No, he already had cancer.  And then I remember the day that I found out I was expecting my fourth baby, and how incredibly happy and excited I was.  I had worked hard to come to that time.  I know I have a little addiction for babies.  Oh well, I think it's a good one to have.  I feel humbled and grateful that I am Michael's mother.  I wouldn't trade it for the world that I wish I lived in - the cancer-free world.

Today, we started another round of chemotherapy.  Despite Michael testing positive for RSV on Saturday, we went ahead with the infusions because he is getting better.  But we are in isolation because of it and everyone who enters our room is donned in special yellow gowns and masks to prevent the spread of his virus.  It takes several days for the chemo to work.  Cancer has interesting trade-offs:  rushing to the hospital at a simple fever, yet infusing toxins into the body while already fighting a dangerous illness.  Risk factors are constantly being assessed against the ultimate risk of the cancer growing, spreading.

Here is what chemotherapy looks like:

I like the "high alert" in bright red on this with cute baby in background

This is the carboplatin nice and bubbly

Chemotherapy is chemicals.  Very toxic chemicals.  The basic chemotherapy, like the ones Michael is getting, kill all rapidly dividing cells in a body.  These usually are hair cells, bone marrow cells (white and red blood cells and platelets), and your gastrointestinal tract cells.  Hence the common side effects for chemotherapy are hair loss, compromised immune system, anemia (red blood cells unable to deliver oxygen to the body), difficulty with the blood being able to clot, diarrhea, vomiting, sores in the mouth, ulcers, and anywhere along the GI tract. 

The chemo solutions are very precise and mixed immediately prior to administering them by a special lab under special protocols here in the hospital.  The nurses wear eye protection and gloves when handling them.  The solutions simply run from an IV pole into Michael's port on his chest through a large butterfly needle (seen in this post).  Sure makes me feel excited to see it plugged into Michael (not really).

But he handles it well.  I am sometimes amazed at how strong his body is.  Amazed.