How was chemotherapy? (11/24/24)

 Joyce and I have experienced such a wide range of emotions during this ordeal, that sometimes it’s difficult to even find a word in the English language that can convey our sentiments in a given situation. Right now, it’s kind of an upbeat optimism that seems completely delusional when you put it in the context of our actual circumstances. The best way I can explain it is to compare it to a scene in “The Princess Bride” when Wesley and Buttercup have just narrowly escaped the pursuit of Prince Humperdinck:

Wesley: A few more steps and we’ll be safe in the fire swamp.

Buttercup: We’ll never survive.

Wesley: Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has. What are the three terrors of the fire swamp? One: the flame spurt. Nooooo problem. There’s a popping sound preceding each so we can avoid that. Two: the lightning sand, which you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too.

Buttercup: Wesley, what about the R.O.U.S’s?

Wesley: Rodents of unusual size? I don’t think they exist.

If you remember the film, it’s exactly at this point that Wesley gets absolutely clobbered by a giant rat.

The morning of treatment, we sat down with our oncologist as well as a nurse educator. During these meetings, we were given a comprehensive picture on the “terrors” of chemotherapy (there were more than three). The first thing to expect would be nausea and vomiting. As it turned out, we had already checked off that box even before the appointment. Pain control has been an enormous challenge since this whole thing started, and even for two people who have survived both the intern pager and newborn infants it was starting to feel like seven consecutive hours of sleep was one of life’s greatest luxuries. In the process of trying to find a pain regimen that met with the satisfaction of our insurance company’s “prior authorization” experts (a topic I may come back to after I’ve made it past the “Anger” phase of Kubler-Ross) we stumbled across one that could make you completely forget about pain due to the degree of projectile vomiting that it induced. Thankfully, the Aloxi that was administered during the first treatment cycle has completely eliminated this problem, and we have a couple more options in the back pocket should that fail after the five-day therapeutic window. Mouth sores have been reported as one of the next dangers we can anticipate, but I am absolutely confident that rinsing with Listerine twice a day will keep us out of trouble there. Hair loss occurs in 30% of cases, and despite the fact that Dr. Arianna Sholes-Douglas (bestselling author of “The Menopause Myth”) recently penned a very persuasive op-ed advocating for the deliberate act of hair removal as a way for women to exhibit confidence and bravery, I haven’t seen that topic trending yet on social media or gaining much traction in Hollywood beyond Cynthia Erivo (star of the weekend’s box office hit, “Wicked”). One reason that I know Joyce will look beautiful no matter happens to her “crown of glory” is that when we first started dating, I got to see her stunning good looks in literally every phase of hair length. During college, she noticed that one of her friends had undergone a massive transformation after a trip to the hairdresser. After inquiring about the motivation for this dramatic change in appearance she learned about “Locks of Love,” an organization that seeks to “help return a sense of self, confidence, and normalcy to children suffering from hair loss.” In that moment, Joyce’s hair instantly transformed from a source of vanity to an opportunity to bless others who were less fortunate.

I honestly can’t think of a better metaphor for how this experience has changed my own perspective on life itself. I’ve spent so many years worrying about the future and all the disasters that could come my way. The apostle Paul gave us a pretty nice list of things to lay awake worrying about in 2 Corinthians 11: “I have worked harder, been put in prison more often, been whipped times without number, and faced death again and again. Five different times the Jewish leaders gave me thirty-nine lashes. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked. Once I spent a whole night and a day adrift at sea. I have traveled on many long journeys. I have faced danger from rivers and from robbers I have faced danger from my own people, the Jews, as well as from the Gentiles. I have faced danger in cities, in the deserts, and on the seas. And I have faced danger from men who claim to be believers but are not. I have worked hard and long, enduring many sleepless nights. I have been hungry and thirsty and have often gone without food. I have shivered in the cold, without enough clothing to keep me warm.” But this was the same Paul who wrote in Philippians 4, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.”

For the past 36 hours, the effect of chemotherapy (or perhaps more accurately, steroids) has been overwhelmingly positive. Joyce has more energy, her pain control is improved, and the psychological impact of knowing there are chemical substances circulating in her body that are toxic to the cancer cells has been unmistakable. But like the R.O.U.S.’s, most of the adverse effects of chemotherapy (and the cancer journey itself) have yet to reveal themselves. As we continue to be lifted by the prayers, gifts, and heartfelt notes of encouragement from so many loved ones, we take great comfort in remembering that life was never about the circumstances and how much happiness they bring but rather about the opportunity we have to love and encourage others as we all travel through this fire swamp that no one has ever survived.