Today was an adventure. After receiving good news about the scan - no surprises, everything looks fine - I had an allergic reaction to the oxaliplatin. I guess the cold sensitivity wasn't enough of a challenge; the drug had to go and find some other impact it could make.
I have no known allergies and have never had an allergic reaction. To all those folks I know who do and have, my heart goes out to you. At first I thought it was just a hot flash; very familiar warm sensation in my upper chest and face. Then I got some kind of tickle in my throat. I took a sip of water but kept having to cough. Then my lips started to tingle and I noticed my breathing was kind of labored. I hit the call button and my nurse showed up within 30 seconds. I didn't have to say a thing - she took one look at me and said, "Oh, you're having a reaction." And then bodies started really moving. Within another minute there were five other people in my little infusion space, the chemo was stopped, I got a steroid and some Benadryl, oxygen in my nose. I was asked if I had any chest pains and I had to ask what they would feel like - I've never had chest pains either (and didn't today). Things slowly returned to normal. My oncologist was paged and he came by to assess as well.
All this time, Ryan was getting us lunch from the Brigham & Women's cafeteria. He arrived to a room full of people hovering over me and me looking a little worse for wear. Not a cool surprise for him.
Breathing was totally normal within another 5 minutes or so. My oncologist stopped by again a few minutes later and said an allergic reaction is not uncommon to this drug, and more common after a few treatments. For today, no more oxaliplatin, but I did have the other drug that goes with it (leucovorin) and will still go home with the pump full of 5FU. Allergic reactions to the 5FU (eff you!!!!!!) are apparently exceedingly rare. The pump is going now and I feel fine. For next time, I get to stuff myself full of steroids 12 hours and 6 hours before the infusion is scheduled, and they will slow down the infusion: 6 hours instead of 2. I'll be here all day. And if I have another reaction, I'll have to be "desensitized" - some kind of insanely long infusion of something. But I can't think about that just yet.
There was a moment in all the hubbub when I thought, I will not die in this fucking chair. Breathe in courage, breathe out fear, courage is just a breath away. That was probably an overreaction, but again, I've never had a serious allergic reaction to anything, and my track record for ending up in the hospital with emergency surgery after surprises like this put the odds in favor of another snafu. After things were mostly back to normal - now I just feel quite a bit drained and sleepy from the Benadryl - I kept tearing up, thinking about how it could happen again, and if it does there is some other unknown to go through, and if that doesn't work maybe I can't finish the full 12, maybe the cancer comes back and we can't do anything to treat it and then I do die in the fucking chair or the emergency room or the hospital bed or a hospice or who knows. For the record, I will not go gently into that good night, I will rage, rage against the dying of the light. Keep me here, friends.
Erin, how terrifying. If it's reassuring at all, my mom has had lots of allergies and has had to be desensitized... it sucks and it's long but... it's working. If you ever want to commiserate, my mom would be down. She's a solitary person but has offered to chat if you ever want to. If not, totally get that too. Here's to no more unwelcome chemo surprises. XX
ReplyDelete