Musical Ambush

I was going to do a post yesterday, but I felt pretty washed out after a night of insomnia. It turns out one of the very wonderful medicines they give to counteract chemo side effects, dexamethasone, itself has insomnia as a side effect. Today, after less insomnia (and a lower dose of dexamethasone), I'm a little more alert but I'm also starting to feel a bit nauseated. At this point, ondansetron (anti-nausea) is my friend.

Backing up to Monday, I went in to the chemo infusion center in the morning. The center is a field of low-walled cubicles, rather like some work places I've seen, but with reclining chairs and IV drips and nurses' stations around the edges.

My cubicle, with Warmie in the background

I got a place near the window, which meant a cold draft but a better view. At least they give out warmed blankets.

The nurses complimented me on the progress my port was making in settling in (it was indeed feeling better by then) and on the proper preparations I had made, applying lidocaine cream and covering it with plastic wrap. Then they accessed the port for the pre-infusion blood draw, and I nearly passed out. Both the nurse and my oncologist, who stopped by, told me this was just because it was the first access and the actual chemo wouldn't affect me like that. It turned out they were right about the chemo not affecting me like that, though I have my suspicion that my reaction was at least partly because of the difference between drawing out and putting in rather than between first and second times. I tend to get light-headed for blood draws anyway. They reclined my chair, gave me an ice pack for the back of my neck and a glass of ice water, and went off to test my blood and mix up my infusions.

So there I was, waiting for the infusions to start, feeling exceptionally vulnerable. I put on my new headphones, started the "Peace" playlist I had assembled, and turned it to shuffle. First up was James Taylor's cover of "You've Got a Friend." Perfect. Then the Duruflé "Ubi Caritas." Excellent. Then the Beatles' "Let it Be." Excellent again. I was beginning to relax, and congratulated myself on the construction of my playlist. The fourth selection was Israel Kamakawiwo'ole singing "What a Wonderful World." I looked out the window and thought, It is a wonderful world. And I want to stay in it.

And suddenly there I was, in tears. I find the quieter songs do this to me sometimes. They just leap out at unsuspecting moments and ambush me. And yet at other times their calming influence is invaluable. I may need to do some heavier-handed curation. Or it may be that the effects of any given song at any given moment may be entirely unpredictable. 

It may be just as well. If mesothelioma doesn't sometimes reduce a person to tears, they're in serious denial.

The first round of chemotherapy-cum-immunotherapy is now two days in the past. Side effects tend to peak Days 3 and 4. Fingers crossed!