I know I write this almost every blog, that everyone’s experience with cancer is different but I genuinely find it hard to believe that most people, no matter the treatment they are having, aren’t nervous going to their first chemo session. I think it’s the fear of the unknown. Not knowing the set-up, how you’ll respond to the drugs, just not knowing very much at all. I think it’s a pretty normal way to feel. The following was my own experience with my first day of treatment, and so probably different to other peoples. I went to a Cancer Day Care Centre which meant I would go in for treatments during the day and could then spend the rest of my time at home.

Now, in many cases people have an introduction session at their centre before treatment, but of course, in my case they weren’t running them due to COVID, so I was coming into my cancer treatment centre cold. Again my fabulous sister/support person came with me to this first treatment. I was incredibly grateful that I could have someone with me during this first session even during COVID. The rest had to be done alone.

My particular treatment room was not in any way like what I had assumed. It was one very long open space with about 12 separated supersized chairs, half of which were filled with people all in masks attached to many and various machines. It was also very very quiet apart from beeps and other mechanical sounds, which was a little unnerving. I have no idea what I had assumed my treatment room would be like, but I remember my sister and I whispering very quietly to each other “This is like something straight out of a science-fiction film”. Nine months later I could not have appreciated this room more and it felt like home, but this first impression was a doozy!

So we were greeted by one of the masked cancer nurses and I was given my own chair. She then ran through what was going to happen because of not having the introductory session. I would be approximately six hours in the chair where a particular drug would be fed directly into my blood stream. It would take that long as it needed to be done very slowly to prevent system shock. OK so I did know that. Tick. Confidence building.

Then I was told I would then be given a ‘take home’ machine full of a different drug that would pump directly into my system through my PICC for 65 hours. It meant I would need to return to the centre in 3 days time to have it detached. OK so now my sister and I were giving each other glances and making little comments like “Ohh, we didn’t know that”, “Ohh, that’s a bit of a surprise”, “So is that just this first time?” Nope, every session. Well this was a bit more than what we had expected of the process, but it had to be done. So Tick. Thanks mostly to having my sister/support person with me, Confidence holding.

Now for my next surprise.

After the bowel cancer operation I had woken up with a diabetes diagnosis. I had had gestational diabetes years before so in many ways I was lucky. Probably due to my fear of needles, I had managed to control it by food then and had been successfully doing the same with oral medication to this point. However, I was about to learn something new. Some cancer drugs (aka one of those I was prescribed) need to be mixed with glucose in order to be administered. Many don’t, but of course this one did. So as a diabetic I was going to be mainlining glucose as part of my treatment! This was slightly concerning. Confidence now considering cowering in a corner.

However, the nurse confirmed the oncologist had made the decision based on diabetes being the lesser of two evils in my case and this glucose needing drug being by far the most effective for me. OK so mainlining glucose, Tick. By now I figure I’ll deal with Confidence at a later date.

Then it began. I remember being so nervous, mainly because I really didn’t want a bad reaction to the treatment drugs. The first hour might have involved my sister whispering to me “breath” quite a lot, but 6 hours on and all had gone well. Two drugs successfully administered, out came the ‘take home’ chemo device for drug three.

Basically this device was very much like the first mobile phones for those who remember them. Not as heavy as one but ultimately similar in size and weight. It did come in a nifty little pouch so I was able to wear it like a handbag. I nicknamed it ‘ Brick’ and it stars in todays image. It took about a half hour to attach it and over the next 65 hours it would feed chemo drugs into my system at home.

I was given the final ‘bits and pieces’ before I left. Steroids to help with energy while connected to ‘Brick’, anti-nausea medication and Gastrostop to help with other side-effects should they occur. Chemo side effects can be nasty.

By now I was no longer nervous, I was just exhausted and a tad relieved. I had made it through the first part of the process unscathed and more informed than 6 hours previously. Now to see how I would go with ‘Brick’, mainlining glucose, taking steroids and what, if any, side-effects were to come. I remember at the time though, as I left the Cancer Centre, my only priority was home and sleep.