Day: August 4, 2008

The calm surrounding restarting the drugs evaporated about two hours before I had to head up there.  I started getting headachey and overheated.  I tried everything to make it go away (eating, drinking, pain killer.) it wouldn’t go away b/c it was psychosomatic.  This was happening a bit in PDX. My Dr there explained to me that it was a very well documented phenomenon that chemo/interferon patients get psychosomatic symptoms *before* they go to actually get the drug.  So chemo patients will start puking in the morning before they go to the hospital for chemo.  In my case, I got headaches, feverish and even more tired in the hour before I was going to leave for infusion.

My appointment was for 5pm.  I got there 15mins early.  But when I arrived at the office, it was like an episode from the twilight zone.  All the receptionists were different, they didn’t know the nurse practitioner I was there to see, they didn’t my Dr’s Physician’s Assistant, and they didn’t even know my doctors phone number. Apparently this office is used by different doctors each day.  Rather than have one set of receptionists and assistants, each doctor has their own set of receptionists and assistants.  I guess they just sit in a cubicle the rest of the time answering calls and scheduling appointments.

So I call up to the receptionist who is in her cubicle, and she says that she will page the nurse and send her down.  15 minutes later I call back, but it is 5:02 and the call goes straight to the message system.  The twilight zone receptionist leaves.  Doctors leave with their bags. You can see where this is going.  Knocking on doors I found someone who knew what I was talking about and who i was looking for.  He made some calls, and actually spoke to her: there was an emergency in the chemo clinic, but she would be down as soon as she could get there.  

About an hour passed.  I was starting to get more psychosomatically symptomatic.  Plus I was getting tired and hungry.  Right when I was really ready to walk out the door I decided to try the open-the-book-when-waiting-for-the-bus technique.  Right when you give up on the bus coming quickly, sit down and open up your book to read, the bus inevitably shows up before you finish the first page.  Its like Law of Nature.  So I announce that to S, who doesn’t quite get me, and I go turn on one of the computers in the waiting room.  They have two public computers to keep people from getting too bored.  And sure enough, right as the first little windows flag shows up in the boot cycle, the door opens and the nurse walks in.

After all that waiting, the injection was really easy.  I’m glad I got instruction, b/c I would have screwed some things up.  I would have pushed the needle in too far.  And not done it at the correct angle.  As is, I didn’t really do it at the right angle.

Pushing the needle in is painless.  As in, I couldn’t actually feel the needle enter my skin.  It was weird that way.  Injecting the IFN stung a bit.  I had to do it slowly.  I did the first half, then I did the rest.

After I did the injection I had this 5 minute spurt of energy, optimism, and other kinds of good feelings.  It was partly b/c it was over, and it was soooo much easier than I thought it would be.  But it was also probably partly chemical. I’m sure there were a lot of endorphins, or adrenaline or whatever that my brain pumped out when my brain groked that i *really* was about to stick a needle in me.  It was so weird to be looking down and think “I’m going to stick this needle into my stomach…”  and then to do exactly that.

Train ride sucked, but not that bad.  I got the headaches for real right as we turned the corner to the apt.  I got some chills, but not that bad.  I should transition to a mild fever shortly.  But overall, not so bad.  Not as bad as restarting.  Which is interesting because I am at the same dose that I was at for the second two weeks of IV, I just take it 3 times per week, rather than 5 times.  I guess the body doesn’t absorb as much when the IFN isn’t mainlined into the vein.