Back in the hospital yesterday and on the bag. For the first time in chemo I shed tears as I felt the initial flush of my eighth round. Perhaps it was a premonition that the day would be rough—it was—or the sleep short—that, too.
But I’m still here. In fact, I’m off the pole and writing this from the coffee shop. RICE chemo requires a certain amount of time between the Rituximab and Etoposide I got yesterday and the Carboplatin and Ifosfamide coming today.
I’ve heard that RICE can be the hardest part of the stem cell transplant journey. That would mean I’m about to crest this mountain and start downhill. (Wait a minute; that doesn’t sound good.) How about, I’m coming to the easy part? (Hmmm, stem cell harvesting, destruction of my immune system . . .)
Chemo is like riding a roller coaster: you have to learn when to relax and enjoy the view and when to close your eyes and puke. And it’s not a bad idea to let it scare the crap out of you; being constipated only makes it worse!