Day 1- Chemotherapy

It’s all still hazy. I was wheeled into the ward by my sister and friend. The NCCC isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. No depressed looking faces, no ugly clinic walls, no bland tiles and tiny windows. It magnificent really. People moving up and down with a slight smile, I sense a tiny gratitude for life in the hospital. The doctors and nurses are nice and helpful, so are the families there supporting their loved ones.

Ward 34 was way better than I thought or could dream. I’m wheeled into the TCT (Teenage Cancer Trust) day room. The bright coats of paint on the wall (purple and lime green), two flat screen tv’s, a mini kitchenette, a coffee machine, games, magazines and comfy sofa. It wasn’t what I expected to be honest. I’m lost in thought and wonder. Perhaps chemotherapy won’t be as bad as I have heard. Perhaps it will be mild and I won’t even notice any changes.

Three doctors walk in at the same time, it feels like some sort of ambush. They ask me different questions, they want to know about my lifestyle choices and tell me what to expect. Have you done drugs? How much do you drink? What was your diet like? They say my oncologist will be with me shortly. I’m given a package and 3 tubes, I have to take swabs to check for infection. I am taken to a private room with a strange looking seat, surrounded by drawers of needles, swabs, wipes, and all other medical kit. Blood is taken from me with difficulty and a cannula is inserted into my left arm. I chose to have a cannula instead of a central line and PICC line for my chemotherapy because I was scared of having a long term line put in. I completely regret this decision.

I am returning to the day room now, feeling exhausted and I stop. The world suddenly pauses and I become deaf. No thoughts, no words. I’m sat steering at the future. He was a young guy, probably the same age as myself. He looked so tired and frail. He was obviously bald. I saw in him a vision of myself. I smile at him and he returns a soft smile has he heads back to his room. I return to the day room in silence. I find my sister and friend sat with a social worker from CLIC Sargent. She smiles and introduces herself. She mentions a few things but I cannot seem to respond. This angers my sister. She mentions my course at university and I realise I had not informed them of absence. She mentions my student visa and wants to know when it will expire. She asks if I could receive treatment at home. I do not respond. My sister and friend do most of the talking. With a soft and kind smile, the social worker says it will be alright and she will return to see me again soon, then she leaves.

My sister is infuriated with me. She is angry with my lack of response to the social workers questions. All I can say is “I don’t care”. She becomes angrier with me. I try to explain what I saw and how I felt. This wasn’t what I wanted, this wasn’t what I planned for. I understand her anger, I’m angry too, I don’t believe this is happening. We are later taken to my room and she stays the night and then the week. I couldn’t bear to tell her how I truly felt. So much guilt, sadness and sorrow. I feel like I am a fraud and I feel like I do not deserve treatment. There are many more suffering and dying from cancer, mine isn’t that bad. I didn’t feel like I deserved to be happy after all I had seen and experienced in the past few weeks. My oncologist says it’s going to be fine. This is a means to cure and says it’s the best cancer to get really. I mean if I had to pick from a list of cancers, he believes this is the best. I later find out that oncologist say this to patients with different cancers in order to calm them and make sure they receive vital treatment.

I feel very overwhelmed. I had a hearing and lung function test. I was told my type of chemotherapy affects hearing and can cause scarring of the lungs (pulmonary fibrosis). I am told I have to avoid sunlight and wear sunscreen if I must be outdoors. I must avoid bumping into things or falling because my skin will become very sensitive. Bumps and bruises are inevitable but I promise to keep them minimal.

I have an IV of fluids first to protect my liver, kidneys and bladder. Then it begins. We arrived at past 11 but it’s beginning to hit me now. I don’t like how I’m feeling. It stings and I feel dizzy. I always get a weird smell and taste in my mouth. Yuck!