Marta – Part II
First laparoscopy on July 21. Anaesthesia terrifies me. I imagine lots of things, notably hearing everything about the CA125 test procedure without being able to speak… ER, and Grey’s Anatomy has developed my already overflowing imagination, lol. Apart from my years of IVF and HPV insemination treatment, I didn’t know the Test Hospital.
The HPV surgeon came to see me after the operation to tell me that she had removed almost 3 litres of ascites. I felt lighter, but she told me it would quickly return; my CA125-type tumour was not operable now!
Things are coming together, I don’t have time to think too much and that’s a good thing! It’s the annual closing at work, and I want to continue delivering.
Doppler ultrasound on July 24, RAS
1st Womans test appointment with my CA125 oncologist on July 28. Madam, you have high-grade cancer, stage III. I no longer hear anything in my head. High grade – it’s good or bad, not necessarily it’s not good. Stage there are 4 stages, and I’m on the 3rd. I think back to October 2019 when this famous gynaecologist did not dare to examine me. At what stage was I at that moment? The CA125 levels oncologist continues talking and prepares a packet of prescriptions for me. I have to do an emergency PET scan because she needs it before the first chemo scheduled for the 4th, and it is the 28th. Before leaving, she tells me, “We can cure you”. That surprises me. Despite all the progress in women’s science, do we tell an HPV type of cancer patient that he can be cured?!
My chemo (Taxol and Carboplatin) is quite aggressive, so I will lose my hair very quickly. Never mind, when I returned from my HPV appointment with my oncologist, a quick trip to the hairdresser to cut very short, I pointed out that my hair reached almost the middle of my back. He didn’t want to, but why did they want to decide for me? My hair, my ovaries, my body! I came out of there with a bob cut.
July 29 poses the PAC
August 3, 1st Pet Scan
Before my first chemo, I met the coordinating HPV nurse who takes all the prescriptions given by the oncologist to explain to me in more detail what awaits me. First, rest assured that you will not be too sick Today. ‘Today, we have effective CA125 treatments – I was sick as a dog during the first chemos, and it was only at the end of the 4th that we were able to stop the vomiting by combining different medications. Remember to apply nail polish, apply cream, and protect yourself from the sun.
Don’t force yourself to eat what makes you happy – I lost between 8 and 10 kg in about 2 months, and nothing made me happy anymore. Order your wig before you lose your hair – I didn’t want to wear one. After 11 days post chemo, I started to lose large clumps of hair; I didn’t cry; no, the hair grew back, but I vomited my guts out when I saw them for the first time in the bathtub; after a few days, I ended up cutting everything off myself!
August 4, 2020, first chemo
Here we are! The first thing that struck me when I arrived at the day hospital was that I was the youngest, but it got worse.
They hook me up, explain the different infusions, and make me comfortable. They tell me I will have a few hours—around 5 hours. But in the end, it depends on whether your CA125 style treatment is ready, whether your test results are OK or not, the availability of nurses, etc. It varies between 4:30 and 8 hours. I already spent a whole day there from 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. I always have a book, but the Polaramine quickly knocks me out, and I doze.
The first chemo was the most difficult of all because the first: when I returned home, I felt a boost of energy; this allowed me to do a little cleaning, tidying up, and even cook and eat a little. At midnight I couldn’t sleep, I was hot, I started to feel nauseous, 2 a.m. I got up quickly, vomiting at 5 a.m. I was cheated, had night sweats, impossible to find a position to sleep, diarrhoea, fatigue, and insomnia.
Didn’t sleep several nights in a row. I had night sweats. I got up in the night to change my bed position. Opened and closed the windows to find air and a better position. Comfortable (sorry, neighbours), the smell of my urine in the morning made me vomit. I could no longer brush my teeth without gagging. The smell of dishwashing liquid was unbearable, and the food was disgusting.
Treatment plan
D+3 Neulasta injection – the CA125 oncologist warned me that I was going to have bone pain. That would be a good sign. But there, it was exhausting; it lasted several days and to the point of not sleeping – The HPV-trained test nurse advised me to ask to switch to Granocyte – which I tolerated much better.
My sister is worried, and I tell myself that there are worse tests; I accept my CA125-induced illness perfectly. What I’m having trouble with is this damn virus that prevents us from going out, getting some fresh air, going to the movies, seeing friends and colleagues, changing our minds!
September 15, 3rd chemo
On the 26th, I didn’t feel well, was exhausted, and had diarrhoea with smelly stools; the CA125 test nurse who took the anticoagulant advised me to call the oncological emergency, who asked me to come as soon as possible. It’s Saturday, and I will spend the entire weekend in the emergency room. Suspected internal bleeding – my haemoglobin is only dropping
At 6:30 p.m., they come to tell me that I am going to be hospitalised for additional HPV DNA women tests and that I am going to go to a room.
At 9 p.m., I was told that I would spend the night in the emergency room; needless to say, I didn’t sleep.
Sunday morning, Madam, we found you a room; you will go there soon.
4 p.m., still in the emergency room – in front of me, a man of a certain age gets up staggering and tries to put his clothes back on, then falls. I screamed with all my might to call the HPV Nurses who had not seen him fall. The impact of his head on the ground shook me so much that a nurse came to calm me down because I was shaking so much.
6 p.m. Finally, a stretcher bearer takes me to a room in the intensive care gastro ward; several CA125 nurses are busy around me, and I am exhausted and relieved to be in a room alone.
Monday morning, September 28, I was informed that I was going to have a fiberoscopy and that I had to fast; I had not eaten anything since breakfast on Saturday. Fibro was done the same day in the afternoon – RAS. My blood is still falling, emergency transfusion!
September 29, 2nd Pet Scan
During the last Colonoscopy HPV exam, I couldn’t swallow the test preparation. I only vomited – they put it through my nose.
They’re taking me for the colonoscopy, and since I couldn’t take all the HPV preparation for the tests, they don’t want to risk anaesthetising me for anything. So, colonoscopy without anaesthesia. “Madam, well done; you are courageous.” Ah, yes? Above all, I didn’t have a choice! Fortunately, everything is OK.
My oncologist comes to see me and tells me that I respond quite well to chemo, according to the last PET scan. And that we will schedule a new laparoscopy on October 6 to decide on the major operation. At the same time, the CA125 related surgeon also comes to see me.