New cocktail, next chapter

I had my marathon round five session session yesterday, with Docetaxel and Herceptin as the new drugs of choice. These last four rounds are about continuing to kill the good with the bad (Doce) and directly targeting the HER2-positive cancer cells (Her).

It all felt like being in one big experiment and the numbers continue to boggle me. The fact that only 20% of breast cancers show up in women under 50 and 1 in 5 of all breast cancers are HER2-positive, meaning it tests positive for a protein called human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 (HER2), which promotes the aggressive growth of cancer cells, makes me some kind of abnormality already. With the addition of a new low-tech preventative treatment they gave me yesterday, the feeling of "hey, let's try this shit out!" only grew.

Since cancer docs started prescribing Docetaxel (drawn from the yew tree) to chemo patients, it has been known to mess with the usual hair follicle growth and plummet in white blood cells, but it also likes to mess with your fingers and toes, turning them black and causing them to fall off, and sometimes even forever. I remember a few years ago reading an article on the rocker chick Bif Naked, who was going through chemo. The interviewer remarked on her black fingernails and that image stuck in my little lizard brain.

Just last week, my little Victoria cancer clinic began using frozen gloves to prevent blood flow to patients while they're being injected with Docetaxel. I was one of the first recipients of the treatment yesterday and although it was bloody cold and painful, I hope it curbs the black fingernail issue.

Overall, my session just tipped the 3.5 hour mark and started 1.5 hours after I arrived. It was all about waiting for a chair on a busy Friday afternoon and then waiting to see if there would be allergic reactions to anything. No allergies, thank the goddesses, but all the tampering with my IV vein left me with a lovely blue hand. Thankfully the nurses were in good spirits and chatted me up to keep my mind off the possibility of stopping breathing or blowing up like a pufferfish.

Side effects so far have been minimal. I'm on my speed-like steroids to keep any nausea and lingering allergic reactions at bay, but still fell into a coma on the couch as soon as I got home. I downed a Gravol and some preventative Tylenol for the promised flu-like symptoms and crashed into bed for the fullest 8 hours of sleep I've had in forever. Had a normal bowl of cereal this morning with my chaser of steroids and feel relatively normal, if not a little hungover.

The girls stayed at my parents' place last night and today is Frances' first day of ballet. I'm determined to see her twirl around in all her pinky, frothy goodness.