Don’t Suffer in Silence
Before I started my treatments I was told to not suffer in silence. I was told that no matter the magnitude of pain or discomfort to bring it up to my oncology team.
Fast forward to my second chemo and I’m having these hot flashes and my legs, hands, and mouth are cramping (thanks a lot oxaliplatin) and I’m panicking. I’ve convinced myself that I’m a lost cause, no one can do anything for me now and talking about what I was going through only made it more real. I had this thought of me explaining my symptoms and the nurse going, “Yeah, well, you’re getting chemotherapy you’re going to be uncomfortable”. So when my sweet angel nurse came in to check on me I shut down. The only thing on my mind was getting home and onto the couch. If only I could walk. I kept trying to say I needed a transport to bring me a wheelchair so I could get home. She knew something was wrong and asked me repeatedly what I was feeling and I do remember her saying, “I really hate to send you home like this”.
I got home. Albeit after an excruciating car ride and having to walk up to my apartment with my legs cramping so bad they were on the verge of charlie-horsing the whole way. I got to the couch and stayed there for a 2 days. I made it to the other side. The tough part is… I had 6 more chemo infusions to go to. 6. I went every other week so I had some time to process before the next time. And in that time I processed that I was going to suffer for the next 6 chemo infusions.
Two weeks goes by fast and before I know it I’m back in that chair. I’m getting my port accessed. And I’m starting to feel the hot flashes. And the cramping starts ever so subtly in my legs. My heart sinks to my stomach, here it comes. I still had 2 hours left in the chair. I had told my mom after the last time how terrible things were and so when she saw me starting to shut down she clicked my call button and when the nurse came in she explained it all for me. And to my surprise my nurse clicks a few buttons on the computer, leaves the room, and comes back with the antidote: Benadryl. She slowly (very slowly) pushes it into my IV and instantaneously I feel better. Sleepy, but better. And I’m so grateful and overjoyed and relieved, but at the same time I’m heartbroken. I’m so sad for 2-weeks ago Kelly who quietly suffered. It would take some time to then take stock in other ways I was silently suffering through and to bring it to my oncologist. I wasn’t sleeping well, which doesn’t seem like a huge deal because I had a lot on my mind and it makes sense that I was having trouble getting and staying asleep. But when I brought it up to my oncologist she said sleep is vital for my recovery and she prescribed me ambien. It worked like a charm and allowed me to get much needed sleep leading up to my infusions.
From then on I would write down any and all symptoms that bothered me and would send portal messages or bring the list to my check ins with my doctor. Even if it was something they couldn’t directly treat, they would talk me through why it was happening and when I could expect it to get better and that helped to calm my anxious mind. Your medical team’s job is to get you through your treatments. They are there to make things more bearable. To not utilize them is an injustice to yourself. So please, don’t suffer in silence.