First chemo

We went into CHEO on Monday for B's first chemo treatment. When we arrived, we finally got to sit down with the doctor to discuss B's tumour and situation. Another surprise awaited us.

Apparently, a tiny spot (so tiny it's naked to the invisible eye) has been found on her lung. So, it looks like the cancer has spread a bit, no longer contained to kidneys. My heart dropped like the Tower of Terror into the pit of my stomach. Small or not, it has spread. The doctor was surprised we weren't aware of it, as if someone should have told us last week. Once again, we feel as if we have been ambushed by drips and drabs of information.

Pas told the case manager, in no uncertain terms, that we understand that they don't have all the information at the outset, but that we feel as if they have been withholding information from us. Then, when we receive it, the person giving it to us always seems stunned that we weren't informed of the latest developments earlier. It is essential for our peace of mind that we know EVERYTHING they know.

Anyways, the news doesn't seem to change the game plan at the moment. They will treat her as as a Stage 4 (affected lungs) instead of a Stage 5 (bilateral kidneys), but the treatment protocol is the same. Six weeks of chemo and a reassessment at that time. They are hopeful that the drugs will shrink the two spots (on her lung and remaining kidney) in a two-for-one chemo deal. If it doesn't, they will either intensify the treatment (add in radiation) or biopsy (surgery) the spots out of her. Naturally, we're hoping the chemo does the trick.

After the news, and much administrative time-wasting, we finally got on with the chemo treatment. Poor Brooke was already desperately bored with having spent five hours in an exam room with nothing but a few crayons and colouring pages and Snow White running over and over again. Still, she was a trooper.

On Monday, Brooke received two of the drugs--one (Dactinomycin) that she will only receive once and which is the stronger of the two, and the other (Vincristine) which she will receive on a weekly basis. A third drug (Doxorubicin) will be added to the mix in Week 4. What does all this mean?

It means that we have a med schedule now. Yup, my kid who has never needed anything beyond Tylenol to cure what ailes her is now on a med schedule. She will require some special antibiotics over the weekends to prevent a certain type of pneumonia that is difficult to treat in cancer kids. She has anti-nausea medication for days after chemo. She has a special prescription for a $50 jar of powder to ensure she does not become constipated on her other meds. (The expense for these meds is ridiculous, too--I can't imagine how those uninsured or non-Canadian parents deal with the financial burden that comes with cancer. I am only glad that I am not one of them.)

Anyways, B wasn't thrilled by the poking around her port and, overtired, fell asleep while the Vincristine was added and then slept through the Dactinomycin injection. When she awoke, she was very upset, but she is always very cranky after a nap.

Concerned that she was in pain or felt awful, we held her and comforted her for a few minutes, finally forcing her to open her eyes and look around. As soon as she saw us, she just sat up and decided she wanted to paint pictures. She was perfectly fine after that. No complaining of belly aches or headaches or tiredness. She was just her usual self.

We stayed for an additional two hours to observe her and ensure that she had received adequate post-chemo hydration. We were the last ones to leave the clinic, well over two hours after it had closed. Apparently, it won't be like that next week. Just go in, get the Vincristine over the course of an hour and leave right away. We'll see, I guess.

Later that night, B who was in great spirits, ate dinner like it was going out of style. A huge plate of KD, a bowl of cucumber slices and red pepper strips, a fistful of crackers, a popsicle, a glass of water and two mini ice cream cones. Does that sound like a kid who is fighting off nausea?

And she was fine the next day, too. Woke up after a very good sleep with a big smile on her sunny face and ready to face the day ahead. She didn't eat much in the morning, but made up for it with a big lunch later on in the day and a great dinner.

The only blip in the day? She kinda spit up a mouthful of apple juice in the morning. I took it for vomit, but after trying the apple juice myself, I decided it was off and threw the rest of the juice boxes out. (They had been sitting in my trunk for a few days, so maybe they turned in the heat?) I would have spit it out, too.

So far, so well on chemo. And, it was the BIG chemo, too. Obviously, the drugs will eventually take their toll on her, but for now, she has reacted very well to the treatment. We will have to become hyperviligant parents with regard to infections and fevers, but at least if she has to have chemo, it couldn't have come at a better time.

Not only will she never remember this time in her life, but I am on maternity leave. So, no daycare (or daycare illnesses) to be concerned about. She is the oldest, so there are no older siblings in school bringing home colds. It's the summer and not exactly flu season, so that's a bonus. B isn't in school yet, so she won't feel as if she missing anything when September rolls around and her swim classes ended just prior to her surgery. And, luckily, Avie is so tiny, that she will never feel as if our attention is too focused on B this summer.

Bad news comes in threes, and frankly, I think we're full up. First, she was diagnosed with Wilms, then it became bilateral, and now it's on her lung. Maybe this means that our luck will start to turn now?