Cancer: The Treatment, Part 2

Yeah yeah... its been a while since my last post on cancer.

Kind of a dreary subject- I know, but I guess its good to talk about it and get my thoughts out. So I last spoke about the first part of my treatment, here's a small recap:

I was to undergo two rounds of chemotherapy as a "preventative maintenance" on my body, to make sure all cancer cells were destroyed. I had been given Neulasta because my white blood cell count was dropping pretty low, and had a PICC line put in so that I wouldn't have to be poked every other day.

The PICC line was for the most part REALLY convenient. I remember my last day, my veins had atrophied a little and they had to poke me 8 times before they could get a good feed into my system. All those pokes could have been avoidable had I actually been able to keep the PICC in.

So, what happened to the PICC you may be asking? This post is about just that. My staff infection. I'm sure you're all drooling with anticipation!!!

Again, I want to stress this isn't about pity, I don't want people feeling bad about any of this, its my way of talking about what happened and bringing this moment of my life out for others to read about. So anyways! On to the show so to speak...

The Wedding

Ashley and I and a couple friends had a wedding to attend in August. Ash was the maid of honor and so had a pretty central role in the wedding. At this point things were starting to get edgy around our house. I was going through some really crappy bone pain, so much that it was difficult to lay still. Ashley was holding out like a trooper on the outside, but inside was being torn apart seeing me like that. I know now how upset she was, but she never showed it. To this day I feel bad, looking back, that she had to take the burden on her shoulders during this time.

So things were stressful to say the least and she had a lot of pent up anger and frustration, some directed at me, most directed at the situation. The wedding was in Steven's Point which was I dunno- maybe an hour and a half away from home. My mom took Isabella for the weekend in the hopes that we could have a nice quiet mini-vacation. We arrived in Stephen's Point the day before the wedding, and had a pretty uneventful day (in regards to my health). For the most part I felt normal, minus the pain in my legs.

But that changed before the ceremony when I started to feel very strange. I felt light-headed, I started to sweat quite a bit, I just couldn't get my bearings straight. I decided to stay in the hotel during the ceremony to try to get some more rest. Ashley at that point just figured I didn't want to be there and I think was a little upset with me for not making it. Which in all honesty was partially true- I really didn't want to be there. After all I had lost all my hair, I felt drained, it just felt like I wasn't me. I didn't want to look at me just as much as I didn't want others to!

So I sat the ceremony out, and climbed into bed. Later that night they had the reception, and I felt compelled to get out of the hotel. The main reason was because Ashley wanted desperately to dance with me at least once.

I went and was able to spend some quality time with Molly and Brandon (our wonderful niece and nephew). Ashley had been whisked away by the bride and groom for a time and so I was left to my thoughts. I ducked out for a time behind the reception hall and took a walk near a baseball diamond. I remember thinking about how wonderful life is and how fleeting this world is from a humans point of view.

We're all so busy busy all the time, its moments like that that I wonder for what- the world still moves of its own accord, life still blooms and time ticks onward. Is it worth it to be so busy? Would it not be more enjoyable to spend time not being busy! It was pleasant standing there watching the sun set. That is much more my element than a crowded hall with a hundred people I don't know and frankly don't care to know. But I digress!

I tend to do that every now and again! Anyways, I returned to the hotel fairly early that night (yes after dancing with Ashley), and abruptly fell to the pillow and blankets of our bed. I woke up several times shaking that night and couldn't get warm enough. I was sweating and had a very high fever, but felt ice cold.

We were both concerned the next morning when my condition hadn't improved. So we immediately left for home, and once there decided to go straight to the hospital.

The Staff Infection

We arrived at the hospital before we went home, and they admitted me into the emergency room where the nurse immediately took my temperature. It came back 99.5 degrees. Now if you know my wife, she is a no-bs kind of woman. She knew that my temperature was way higher than what the nurse had said it was and demanded that she retake it. When the nurse wouldnt, she found another nurse that would, and finally (much to my chagrin), my temperature was retaken (this time in a less humble location).

Turns out my temp was close to 104. I was shivvering and could not get warm, immediately the doc was in looking at my PICC line. The source of my fever was the PICC line, it had become infected. They unwrapped the PICC and began to pull it out. At which time, they noticed that there was a green (I know I know I'm really sorry for the visual here) liquid that came out. Without much warning, the doctor said- okay, we're pulling this out, you may feel a bit of a sting.

Now when they take a PICC line out, especially one that is close to your heart, you'd think they'd not yank it. But thats entirely what the doc did. He grabbed the end that was in my arm, and just started pulling it out. Within seconds the PICC was out and I was being given liquids to help hydrate.

I was in the hospital for 5 days recovering.

The doctor said that had I waited another few days, my arm would have needed to be amputated. I was only half way through my chemotherapy at this point, and boy was I done.

Again, my friends and family were so awesome during all this. They were all there for me and more importantly- there for Ashley, who really needed the shoulder to cry on. This was the closest to death I had ever come in life. The cancer seemed a little superfluous after that.

So to wrap things up, I was given a couple weeks to heal up before starting the last session of chemotherapy. I'll probably continue with that in another post...