Ice & Anaphylaxis: Rounds 5 & 6

I had just hung up the phone after chatting with my Breast Cancer Supportive Care physician regarding my high anxiety about the second half of chemo. While Red Devil was miserable, there was something comforting about knowing what to expect. The doctor reiterated that the second half of the treatment plan should be far "easier" than the first and should result in an energy "plateau." In effect, I likely would not see myself feeling better but I also should not find myself consistently crashing further into the life of a bed-bound invalid. Relieved I began to pack my chemo bag of things to occupy myself and made sure to include the new icepack mitts and booties that I would need to prevent unwanted side effects with the new chemo.

The day of treatment arrived and I settled into my chemo chair as the nurse hooked me up to IV's and began explaining what to expect. "So we will run pre-meds for 15 minutes, wait 15 minutes and then begin your chemo." Sounded fine to me. My prior treatments had taken about two hours from start to finish so this was within my expected time frame. As the timer signalled the end of my pre-med wait the nurse returned. "Ok, so we are going to run this very slowly for 15 minutes to make sure you don't have an allergic reaction and then we will turn it up for the remainder of the three hours." Wait, WHAT?!?! First of all, I didn't bring enough to do for three hours. Second, I had not mentally prepared myself to sit with my hands and feet in ice for that long!

Now something you need to know about me is that I abhore the cold. Truthfully, that word still falls short of how I feel about it. Andrew says that every time it snows I die a little inside and it's so true. Beyond that, I have a thing about my feet. I do not like them cold, wet, dry or dirty...but cold is the worst. But, here we are and it's time to put on the icepacks so suck it up princess. I slipped on the booties and mitts and took a deep breath....

Commonly I'm asked why it's so important for me to use the ice so let me explain. Icing an area restricts the blood vessels and helps to minimize the amount of chemo that thereby flows to specific areas of the body. From what I understand, this particular chemo is known for causing neuropathy and can even cause nails to become damaged and fall off. If allowed to go on for too long the neuropathy could become permanent. The trade-off is that your body goes through icy torture for three hours. During the first hour I find legs twitching without my consent as my body tries to escape the cold. It's a little bit like restless leg syndrome but you cannot relieve it by moving. The minutes tick by like hours and each time I'm SURE we must be close to done I find that the clock has only moved 5 minutes. However, by the end of the first hour I have lost most of the feeling in my feet which makes the remaining two hours far more manageable. A welcome gift of grace!

I sailed through the first of these treatments without an allergic incident and went home to ride the waves to come. About 24 hours later I noticed a slight rash that looked a bit like a heat rash. I'd been outside so it likely wasn't a big deal. However, by the next morning my torso looked like I had been horrifically sunburned and I itched like mad. At 48 hours I called the after-hours triage line and was prescribed a steroid to try to help. As the steroid kicked in I realized that I had been so focused on the rash that I had not even connected the fact that my throat was swollen and tight and my eyelids were swollen as though I had been crying. The steroid helped to eliminate the serious side effects but the itching continued for the full two weeks until treatment six.

As we left Cochrane to head to my sixth treatment I burst into tears. Our girls have become more and more emotional with every treatment as they know the toll that it takes and the resulting upheaval in our lives. Leaving to their sobs for mommy breaks my heart. Especially when I don't want to go either. The mental battle is often harder than the physical. Beyond that, the anticipation of the ice and hives had built up a mental mountain that seemed too steep to climb. As we climbed into the elevator another woman, about my age, stepped in. Her head was covered and it was clear she was on a similiar journey. We made our floor selections. Mine for the chemo floor and hers for radiation. Then she spoke, "Are you close to the end?" "Two more," I responded. "I feel for you" she said and my eyes flooded with tears. A few more words were exchanged before the elevator door opened at my stop. "You've got this," she said with a wink. I checked in, made a beeline for the bathroom and sobbed. I knew it was the kindness of God to encourage me.

My sixth treatment was accomplished only through the prayers and support of all of you. I had absolutely no strength or ability to climb into that chair yet somehow we clawed through the next four hours and headed home. I had been warned that my allergic reaction would likely get increasingly worse with each treatment and could come on earlier and faster. However, the terrifying thought of my throat closing while in the treatment chair did not come to fruition for which I am very thankful. Approximately 24 hours after my treatment I suddenly began breaking out in hives but this time I knew what was happening. I immediately called the after-hours line again and was permitted to begin taking a stronger steroid. My throat began swelling and the tightness made it evident that the reaction was indeed worse and faster than the first time. Yet, it was still not a reaction that required emergency intervention and the steroid quickly began its work. Thankfully it also took care of the hives so I have not dealt with the misery of itching this time. My energy levels have plateaued to what I would classify as a "good week" on Red Devil and this week I have even been able to resume longer walks with the dog!

Thank you to everyone who has reached out, held me up and prayed for me over the last couple of treatments. You are a greater blessing than you know. Just two more treatments left!

Rachel