IFEX Day 1

Dear friends,
Day 1 of my IFEX treatment is over, and I've survived it fine! Since the last Mtx treatment, I've been anxious about this week. I can't remember much from my last round of IFEX, but what I do remember is not in the least bit pleasant. I have been dreading a repeat, even though Forscher, Susan, and Andre keep reminding me that I am in a different place now and so things are not likely to go as badly as they did. Andre pointed out that instead of thinking about how dreadful IFEX was, I should consider that it turned things around. As hard as it knocked me, it certainly also did damage to the cancer. And perhaps it will do so again.

These are good thoughts, and I do repeat them to myself, but underneath,I feel a tension in myself, as though I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. My last real memory of IFEX is coming in on Day 2, feeling nauseous, bewildered, and lost. Forscher came in to ask how I was doing, and even before I responded, I could see the concern in his eyes. Hardly had I gotten the words out of my mouth to tell him that I felt strange that he said he would reduce the strength of the drug and that would help with the confusion I was feeling. He did, and probably it helped, but I had already crossed the stage, and the rest of the week and the week after we got back home, I spent in a stupor, unaware of what was happening around me. After the fog lifted, I found myself in a deep depression that I could not understand. I couldn't stop crying, couldn't think of anything else but the pain I was in and how death would be a relief. I scared the daylights out of Andre by getting up from bed one night and declaring that I was going to the kitchen because that's where the knives are. Right now, I think back to that and cannot understand what was going on in my head -- those kitchen knives are blunt, I'd have had a miserable time trying to slice my wrists or hacking at my jugular vein (even if I knew where it's located)!  It seems funny now, but even when I laugh about it, it is with an uneasiness because I remember how earnest I was. 

The nurse yesterday explained to me that IFEX can cause neurotoxicity in the brain, and that is what likely happened tome the last time, but she said Forscher has changed the dosage I am getting this time and also decided not to start me before I got hydration and anti nausea drugs. I'm glad. When I saw Forscher today, he asked me if I was feeling the same way as I had the last time. I told him, "So far, no.", and asked him hesitantly if I should expect to lose my wits in the next few days. He said that he thought it was unlikely. Apparently, the reaction I had was an unusual one that happens rarely (ha ha) and was, he believes, exacerbated by the fact that I was on so many pain meds at that time. So, perhaps I won't become suicidal this time and that will be a good thing. 

Actually, I have the suicide thing resolved in my head. After I started on the Lexapro, I realized that it would not be suitable to indulge in such an act in the kitchen and have Mira come and view the remains. Baffled, I thought for two weeks and concluded that it would be best to take the knife and go out to the park behind our yard. It made a very romantic picture in my head -- a full moon shining down on the park bench, the leaves of the tall trees  rustling softly and the scent of the wet grass and earth. But when I discussed this with my dear friend, Anurag, he pointed out to me that blood factor remained and little kids come to the park (and little animals besides), so I had to abandon that plan. For the next weeks, I puzzled over trying to find a method of suicide that would not traumatize small children. I suppose the neurotoxicity in my brain is why it took me so long to remember the proximity of the Pacific Ocean coupled with the fact that I cannot swim. Since I've hit upon that, I feel more relaxed. Don't worry, dear friends, the fact that I am telling you all this is, I think, an indication that I have no intention of committing such a rash act. Nevertheless, it is a relief to me that there is a neat solution to my question. ;)

I'm just glad that my sense of humor is back. It was gone completely after IFEX last time. I remember watching Modern Family and not cracking a smile. I remember telling Ranjeeta and Andre that whenever I tried to write, it was all depressing, and their response that perhaps from this point on, I would only say profound things. They giggled about it, but i was close to tears. To be profound for the rest of my life seemed an unenduringly depressing prospect. Thankfully, that seems unlikely.

You know, dear friends, i was thinking today that even though this is the worst time in my life, I couldn't ask for better circumstances. I am so lucky to have a job with good health insurance that allows me to get treatment where I need to, a community of friends that is so wonderful in its support and kindness, friends who leave their own families to come take care of me and mine, a brother and sister-in-law who are so loving and kind, a beautiful apartment where I can stay during treatments, and a wonderful husband who takes such good care of me. I am so grateful to all of you for the love you send my way, and I hope that after this treatment things will improve enough to allow me to see some of you. Tonight, we see Leticia and Kent and I am so excited. They are such wonderful friends and seeing them will distract me from wondering about each little twitch my body makes.

Thank you all for walking this long journey with me. 
With love,
Radhika.