January 3--Day 2 (post-Cytoxan)

My mom and dad got home around 8 last night. Unfortunately, my mom did end up getting sick as soon as they got on the highway. That was disappointing for all of us.

Because this type of chemotherapy drug can cause serious damage to the kidneys my dad kept a timer running all night. Every two hours he woke my mom up so that she could drink water and go to the bathroom. Not a real restful night, but the alternative is less than ideal.

I was surprised this morning when my mom called. She sounded fine. She said that she felt remarkably well, almost normal. And we (girls included) can see her this weekend before the drug starts knocking down her white counts!

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I didn't sleep too well last night--I worried all night. I kept saying to myself They're fine. They're adults and you are an adult. They can handle this--it isn't the first time.  I did get up and check my cell phone a few times--I don't typically leave it on at night.

That got me thinking, however, that we need to come up with a plan. If my dad needs me in the middle of the night I need to know that he'll call me. He needs to know that I'll be there no matter what.

Last transplant they went somewhere without telling me (yes, they're adults), but I panicked the entire time I couldn't not reach them. My dad was also in an accident a few days after her first chemotherapy and I had to help to take care of both of them. He was on crutches and in pain and she was too weak to do much. It was surreal, but we did it with the help of my grandparents.

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My girls were not born last time so the concept of hair loss is foreign to them. Alyssa (5) asked a very logical question of my mom, "Where does the hair go?" The last two days she's asked me if Gammy's hair fell out already. She doesn't understand that my mom will look normal today but in a week or so she'll be bald. My husband suggested that the girls ask Gammy if she had a picture of her without hair. She found one this morning that we'll share with the kids to help answer their questions. I'm curious what their reaction will be like. 

January 2--start chemotherapy

January 2, 2014

My mom and dad headed up to UCSF today for Cytoxan, the chemotherapy drug that will start the transplant process. My parents stayed up there for most of the day while they infused the drug along with saline. This particular chemotherapy drug is tough on the kidneys. My mom will need to drink 2 liters of water a day for the next two days to flush her kidneys. If she cannot then she'll have to go back up to UCSF to be admitted. (She's been practicing--that is a lot of water.)

Unlike the last transplant (10 years ago), we texted throughout the day. If she was sleeping, my dad texted; if my mom was awake then she texted. She ate well and was not nauseated. She said that she felt woozy, but otherwise okay.

Thankfully my mom kept meticulous notes on the treatment last time and notified the nurses that either the anti-nausea drug or the Cytoxan gave her the "worst headache of her life." I took the same anti-nausea drug during both my pregnancies and not once did it give me headaches. We talked and determined it was likely the Cytoxan. So the nurses were prepared. They wanted to keep her comfortable. So my mom had some caffeine via coffee (not a drip). It seemed to help. She is dealing with a reasonable headache. (Yay, for small victories!)

This time my mom received a medication to help with the after-effects of the chemotherapy. She received a drip earlier tonight and will take pills for the next dose--they're to lessen the effects of the drug from bone pain to sickness to anything else.

It's amazing how far stem-cell transplantation has come in the last ten years!

And . . . I must admit that being able to text throughout the day helped me cope while she was 90 miles away in the hospital.