IV. Carboplatin

Dear All

I hope this finds you well.

As you may recall, on Friday I started a cycle of carboplatin chemotherapy following my diagnosis of testicular cancer (which had moved up to the lymph nodes in my abdomen).

I was interested in the side effects I would experience as a result of the carboplatin and was told that it ranges from a strong hangover to being knocked out for several days, with each individual patient being different.

The administration of the chemotherapy itself was more emotionally draining than physical. I had thought long and hard about being attached to the IV drip and being given the cytotoxic agent, and was rather apprehensive. The chemo suite was well furnished and another chap was sitting next to me doing the suduko in his newspaper, attached to a drip receiving a colourless liquid (more about this chap later). With great skill, the nurse hooked me up to a drip and explained about the anti sickness drugs I’d receive during and post chemotherapy. My new friends were ondansatron, dexamethasone and metoclopramide (the latter drops down in dose and I’m still on it).

After the forty or so minute infusion, I was allowed to leave, together with my sickness tablets and a special chemo helpline telephone number. Before I had even left the chemo suite my seat had been filled by another chap about to receive chemo, such is the demand for the resources.

As a seasoned hangover recipient, I felt well equipped for this treatment. At first the side effects were quite mild; hot flushes, nausea; but after a day they stepped up to headaches, dizziness, tiredness, stomach pains, metallic taste in the mouth and then insomnia.

So, after 6 days I am now ready to sit in front of the laptop and am still having to be patient and wait to see if I will feel any further effect from the drop in my white blood cell count over the next week or so and if I’ll avoid infection. A follow up appointment two weeks post chemo will involve checking my bloods and hopefully meeting with the Oncologist to review my status.

Back to the chap I shared the chemo suite with. Ken, a 68 year old ex-military man and father of six was rather hoping for a quite session with the IV drip but was soon fully engaged in explaining his situation. Ken had started smoking at the age of 12 and had lost his wife to emphysema the year before. In his opinion you did not smoke for 55 years and not suffer the consequences. He had developed an inoperable lung tumour and had joined a clinical trial involving carboplatin and etopside. Ken was unable to tell me the details of his clinical trial, essentially I believe because he didn’t know. But he did know that it was a good idea and he knew he’d also benefit from 4 CT scans, an increased level of contact with the medical team than available on standard care, and this he felt would stand him in good stead. He also knew the statistics for 5 year survival and how long it would take for him to regenerate his lungs if he gave up smoking, yet felt that he would continue as he enjoyed smoking. This discussion was interlaced with reflection on how glamorous smoking used to be in the 60s.

Again, this has all been a very humbling experience. Chemotherapy was a scary word, in my opinion almost as scary as cancer itself. It’s not just physical but examines you mentally too.

Almost like clockwork the dates arrived for a CT scan next Monday 27th June, this scan will determine the position and plan for radiotherapy which will start on Wednesday 6th July.

I know I have been carried through this by Jesus, it could have been so much worse and for those who have prayed or sent their thoughts, I am very grateful indeed.

Best wishes

Stuart