Number 10

When I was an absolute neophyte and could just about spell the word chemotherapy and comprehend acronyms like ABVD, I was told by the oncologist that the last chemos would be the worst ones. The greenhorn in me could not quite fathom that as I would have thought that the first ones would be tougher and things would get easier as better the devil you know, as it is said! Well not quite true with the beast called chemo as it is not your regular neighbourhood devil, but a lurking hydra headed monster who grows a new head each time you get rid of one. The problem is that your poor tired body does not have time to rid itself of all the poison it has received before it is assaulted again and again and again. Our euphoria of getting almost to the end, 2 to go as of today, took a big dampening. It almost feels like the last two heads of our monster will be the toughest to slay and we will need Hercule's craft to do so, I guess.

Chemo 10 started on time. Surprise, surprise! We naively hoped it would end on time and all would be well. Ranjan seemed surprisingly calm and we again were gullible enough to believe that it all would be well. How could we suspect that Hydra was crafting a wily head! The fourth drip was almost finished when Ranjan started shivering and his teeth were clattering. He said he was cold and felt feverish. The nurses took the fever but it was normal. The shivering did not stop so I SMSd the oncologist who prescribed an Avil injection. By then the fever was 100. The oncologist asked me to inform him when it went above 100.5. The drive back home was never ending and the silence oppressive. By the time we reached home Ranjan felt nauseous and sat on the tub next to the pot refusing to move. Saying anything to him was countered by an aggressive word or movement. Where was my Ranjan! Slowly we moved him to his bed and he commandeered us to put his electric blanket on, switch the heater on, give him a quilt, a woollen cap and socks. He then fell into a disturbed sleep. When I took his temperature again it was 103.2. I was scared or should I say terrified. A quick message to the doctor to be told to remove all the heating implements and report back after an hour. 102.6. Another message! A pill to be give. Temperature to be checked. 101.2. I breathed a sigh of relief and decided I needed to come down and write. It was critical I do so.

I now hope and pray that the night will be peaceful and that the fever would have gone in the morning. But my mind is on overdrive. How do I handle chemos 11 and 12. It seems that my support therapy needs fine tuning as the poison is accumulating by the minute. Big guns are needed. More research to be done. The weeks to come will be busy.

I have to get the better of 11 and 12!