The Big Week - Part 2

With Tuesday's port surgery a success it was time to get to chemotherapy. Thursday August 11, 2016 at 1:00 PM Kim walked into the OHSU Knight-Legacy Health Cancer Center in NW Portland for session #1. This would be my second chemotherapy tag-along visit in just a few months. In early June of this year I joined Jim Brown for his 18th round of chemotherapy up in Seattle. I'm glad I had that first opportunity because, you see, chemotherapy is sort of anticlimactic. At least it was for me. 

I thought it would involve huge machines, loads of doctors, the patient on a huge Dr Frankenstein table, and a scary cocktail of radioactive liquid. Nope.

Kim and I only waited a few minutes in the waiting room before being escorted in for some bloodwork. This is where the connections to her port were made and some blood was drawn. A short visit in a private room with the oncologist is always the first part of the day to review the treatment process and discuss progress. For this session we had a longer visit just to go over the process and what to expect. Kim asks the questions and I write down all the answers.

Done with the consultation we are walked over to the infusion clinic. It's a nice room with windows on two sides, comfortable stations, a coffee and tea bar, and lots of attentive nurses. Kim was offered her choice of locations and took a seat in the big chair. Immediately they had warm blankets on her. (They have a fully stocked warming oven for the blankets.) Kim's nurse sat with us and went over the full procedure.

She was given a starter cocktail of anti-nausea drugs and saline to get the process going. Every step of the process is checked, double-checked, and documented. The only reaction Kim ever had during the process was the first jolt of medicine arriving via the port. There's no pain associated with any of the drugs, just the difference in temperature. She said they felt cold going in and it was just a little weird. 

For the chemotherapy mix, no metal suit or long tongs though the nurse does wear a protective gown and gloves while handling the bags and syringes. There is an exposure risk associated with these medicines and care is taken to monitor lifetime exposure to the drugs. Also, no one under 18 is allowed in the infusion clinic so the boys won't get to join Kim for a visit.

The first medicine is a dark, cranberry-juice red and, coincidentally, comes out looking the same color. (Thought you should know.) The chemotherapy drugs dripped in for about an hour or so while Kim and I talked, looked at our phones or read. We added to the hospital blankets with a special one made by our neighbor Heather Mars. The blue side features Portland bridges and the reverse is meant to symbolize a speedy mountain bike ride through the woods and through streams. Thank you, Heather!

The final drug administered needs to be given 24 hours following treatment so rather than have us drive back in they attached a robotic injector to Kim's arm. At 7:45 PM tonight it will give her a dose of Neulasta by Amgen. (Gives us a new perspective on the Tour of California now, eh?)

And that's that. Kind of like a few hours at a casual cafe just hanging out. Kim, as has become the norm, sets daily standards for courage and positivity. One session down and seven more to go.

We enjoyed a brief drive home and then walked to dinner with the boys for my birthday. Kim inhaled a big bowl of veggie Pho from a local place with no noticeable side affects at all. We even split a slice of Rawdacious cake when we got home. If you live in Portland you must try desserts from Rawdacious. Do it.

Let's get started

There's a port in there under those little bandages

Emily is an amazing nurse 

Getting started

Bathroom break

Time for the real stuff

Doxorubicin is red

No crazy reactions or magical immediate results. Just one tiny drip after another.

Kim's robot doctor

I had a pretty great birthday dinner out after all.