A Spork in the Road

So you go to your first physical in a while and hope, you know, your cholesterol isn’t high.

You come out with a stack of orders for tests and one word bouncing around your stomach: “cancer.”

That’s what happened to me, anyway. After a CT scan, blood work, and left supraclavicular node biopsy, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. After a PET scan, bone marrow biopsy, port insertion, pulmonary function test, and MUGA (heart) scan, I’m almost ready to start six months of ABVD chemotherapy.

Hodgkin’s lymphoma is a cancer of the lymph system (my biggest nodes are currently in the chest, around the lungs, but the doc felt some nodular swelling in my neck that worried him, hence the initial tests). Happily, it’s considered one of the most curable forms of cancer, and although the cure entails probably side effects like fatigue, nausea, hair loss, and a host of other fun experiences — hey, it’s a cure. No complaints here.

So. This blog is getting hijacked by cancer for a few months. I wanted to start blogging today so that you have a baseline entry before “chemo brain” kicks in. I expect to start chemo sometime this week; this is probably my last unmedicated Sunday in a long time.

I’ve been impatient to start treatment because I want to kick this thing’s ass and kick it now. I’m a little nervous, too. I have a chemo port in my chest that will allow them to plug the chemo IV directly into my chest and pour the drugs into my jugular — a good thing all around, because it avoids a lot of problems associated with administering chemo to the veins in the arm. But still, you’ve got a needle in your chest and a tube in your jugular. This is a little weird.

Things that, oddly enough, do not bother me about chemo:

1. The idea of losing my hair. I plan to shave my head in a couple of weeks, and then wear lots of turbans and scarves and capitalize on my cancer lady status. I’ve got cancer, dammit! I’m gonna milk the drama for all it’s worth!

2. Temporary menopause. If I gotta do chemo, can I at least skip the monthly hassle of a period?

Things that DO worry me about chemo:

1. Getting stupid. I’m used to being able to think clearly, to remember easily, to figure things out. I’m worried about losing that, and I’m worried about not getting it back.

2. White blood cells. The drugs they give you to boost your WBC count (when the count drops too low and puts you at high risk of infection) sound excruciating. I’ve been talking to my bones, asking them to pull out all the stops and keep production levels high enough.

3. Mood swings. One of the drugs that helps manage side effects is a heavy duty steroid, and one of *its* side effects is irritability and mood swings. Great. Six months of induced PMS.

Things I’ve lost in the past three weeks:

1. Modesty. As my friend Maureen; said of having Hodgkin’s, after a certain point, every time you enter a small room you automatically take off your clothes.

2. Needle phobia. I used to grow faint at the thought of a needle. Now I walk around casually with IVs hanging out of my arm.

3. A drug-free body. Already I’ve been pumped full of sedatives, narcotics, antibiotics, and some other stuff I probably didn’t even know about. After this week I’ll have a laundry list of medications that I’ll have to recite every time I go in for a procedure. “What prescription drugs are you on?” “How long do you have?”

4. Health. Not that I don’t fully believe I’ll be cured and healthy again, relatively quickly. But I’ve always been one of those people who scanned down medical forms and checked “occasional back pain” just so I’d have something to write down. Now I have to check the box that says “cancer.” It’s still really weird to know that for the rest of my life, may it be long, I’ll be someone who had cancer. And who will be handling the permanent side effects, however mild, of having had cancer and chemotherapy and all the attendant tests and procedures.

Cancer. Cancer cancer cancer.

I hope someday soon the medical industry makes that word little more than an astrological sign. And I hope that soon enough it becomes past tense for me. But for right now, it’s present and future tense and I’m getting ready for a rough ride.