My low immune system weakened my antibodies, and I was always catching infections and running a fever. My antibodies could not fight alone, so I was always given antibiotics to feel better.
The bad part is that I would get sick not from just one infection, but from multiple ones at the same time. I had to take so many pills every day that I could not keep track of them. Sometimes, I would forget to take an antibiotic. The doctors gave me one of those big pill containers that had the days of the week on it and also the hours of the day. They said this would help me to keep track of what to take at what time, but I still skipped some pills.
I was just so tired of taking pill after pill after pill. In the beginning of my treatment, I did not mind, but as my treatment continued and as I became more sick, the antibiotic intake increased, and it just became too much to bear. I would literally take 14 different antibiotics every day. Most of them were in pill form and a few were in liquid form. The liquids were more disgusting than the pills.
I remember that the antibiotics made me sick to my stomach. Sometimes my stomach would hurt; other times, I either could not go to the bathroom or go to the bathroom too many times in one day. That's why some days, I would just skip some pills. It was not a smart thing to do, but I was sick and tired of getting stomachaches. When I did not take my pills, the doctors and the nurses were not too happy. Most of the times, they checked on me to make sure that I was taking them; they would not leave the room unless I took my medications. That's when I had no choice but to take them; then, I would feel an earthquake in my stomach.
Not all medications were unbearable. The ones that I did not mind taking were the pain killers. Yes, you heard me! PAIN KILLERS!! Who does not like them? I will be honest...I enjoyed having them around. Some of them (my favorite ones) made my life a little bit easier.
Since I experienced different types of surgeries, I had to go through a lot of pain. When I had my Endoscopic Sinus Surgery after my treatments, the surgeon prescribed Codeine. This type of surgery was not too painful, but it was so uncomfortable because I could not breathe through my nose; instead, I had to breathe through my mouth. Apparently after the surgery, the surgeon stuck a gauze inside my nose in order to stop the bleeding. I had no idea why I could not breathe through my nose until the next day, when he pulled out the gauze. I thought my brain was coming out of my nose. It was not a pleasant thing to see or feel.
When I had my gall bladder removed due to gall stones a year after my treatments, the surgeon prescribed Percocet. This type of surgery was painful because I had three incisions: one in my belly button and two on the right side of my stomach. The surgeon also removed my port-a-cath that day and he closed the hole in my stomach where my feeding tube used to be. I had so many stitches in the same area that I could barely move, but I did not care; I knew this was going to be my last surgery.
Besides Codeine and Percocet, I was also prescribed Morphine during my treatments. Sometimes, I would get an infection around the feeding tube site that led to sharp pains on the left side of my stomach. It felt as if somebody was stabbing me with a knife. I could not stand the pain and often, I screamed. The nurses would inject me with Morphine, and the pain was gone in a matter of minutes.
I am not going to lie...I loved Morphine. It was my favorite pain killer. I remember perfectly the first time when one of the nurses injected it in my IV. I saw stars everywhere! My brain was conquered by this amazing feeling that I cannot explain. I never wanted it to go away!
The best part is that every time I was in a lot of pain due to an infection, the doctors would hook me onto this machine that injected me with a certain amount of Morphine every hour. If the pain increased, I could press a button on the machine and it would release more Morphine, but only every 20 minutes. It was great! The only bad thing is that the continued Morphine intake eventually led to mood swings.
Sometimes, I was perfectly fine—cheerful, happy, and nice. All of a sudden, I would get upset at whoever was in my room (most of the times my mother) for no reason. Many times, I kicked her out of the room. Now that I think about it, I feel bad, but when I was sick, having her around all of the times aggravated me. I know that she was there to help me, and I am grateful for that, but sometimes I just wanted to be alone. That's normal; it happens when you are battling cancer. Nobody should be offended by that.
The sad part is that I do not even remember being mean to her. I know these things because the nurses, the doctors, my family and friends have told me so. I think that all of the drugs that I received during my treatments made me a little bit crazy, especially Morphine. I miss the amazing feeling that it gave me, but I just was not myself.
Other drugs that I was given were anti-nausea medicines, such as Kytril, Zofran, Benadryl and Ativan. These medications prevented me from feeling nauseous all of the times. If it were not for them, I would have vomited every five minutes...literally.
My favorite ones are Benadryl and Ativan. Why, might you ask? Because not only did they prevent nausea, but they also relaxed me and helped me go to sleep, especially Ativan.
Initially, I was given Ativan for the nausea, but as my treatments continued, I could not sleep at night. It must have been because I was in a different environment, sleeping in a hospital bed rather than my own bed. Eventually, I was given Ativan before I went to sleep and it would knock me right out. However, I noticed that before I fell asleep, I was very calm and my head was in the clouds...I liked that very much.
The bad thing about Ativan is that it is very addictive, and since I was given it every night throughout my treatments, I became addicted to it. I could not go to sleep without it; I was completely hooked on it. It was difficult for me when at the end of my treatments my oncologist told me that I had to stop taking it. He said that since the cancer was in remission and I was finally at home, there was no need for me to keep taking it.
I remember him saying that once I finished my pills, he would not write another prescription for me. He also said to stop taking Ativan little by little rather than all at once because I would feel its absence. I honestly thought that I was not addicted to it and that I was going to be fine without it. I was wrong!
The first night that I did not take Ativan, I was going crazy. My hands were shaking and I had insomnia. I was laying on my bed, freaking out. I got up, picked up the pill bottle, and swallowed my Ativan. That's when I realized that I was addicted to it. My oncologist was right; I had to stop taking it slowly. I followed his advice and the following night, I cut the pill in half. That night, I only took half of it and the following night, I took the other half. After that, I cut the pill in four parts and for the next four nights, I only took one quarter of the pill.
Days later, I did not need Ativan anymore. I was able to fall asleep on my own and that was a big accomplishment for me because I was slowly getting my life back—I had just finished chemotherapy, I was no longer taking any medications, and my future was starting to look brighter.
I admit it, however, that I do miss those days when my favorite friends made me smile!
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