Side effects from cancer treatments often feel like they are heaped onto an overflowing plate from a smorgasbord at the cancer cafe. Every treatment comes with a long list of possible effects with the caveats that most people don’t experience all the effects and they range in severity. That’s true enough. I’ve experienced many of them over time due to the reality of being on multiple treatments. The list below is not complete. Side effects I’ve had the displeasure of having include:
Nausea and vomiting
Higher risk of infection (low white blood cell counts)
Anemia (low red blood cell counts)
Easy bruising and slower healing
Hand foot syndrome
Dryness of mucous membranes
Chemo induced menopause
An entire separate buffet needs to be set out to adequately serve all the undesirable dishes that accompany chemo induced menopause. Sexual side effects are a big part of menopause. Entering it as a chemo induced experience brings some unique spices and flavors to the smorgasbord. Fortunately, there are ways to address these effects so women are more comfortable and happier.
Emotional side effects like anxiety, depression, grief, and identity questions may not directly be caused by a cancer drug, but they certainly can develop or become magnified from diagnosis, throughout treatment, after treatment, or carry into what’s next. Trauma also can develop from a myriad of cancer moments. These are available at the smorgasbord and it’s all you can eat.
Addressing mental health side effects are just as important as addressing physical side effects. No, a person doesn’t have to suck it up or get over it. Positivity is not a cure all. I may not feel like gutting myself emotionally and exposing all my pain as a casual conversation. Someone may look just fine on the outside and be struggling within.
Unfortunately, I have added a new side effect to my list in the past month:
Mouth, tongue, and throat problems such as sores and pain with swallowing
Fun fact: a person can’t swallow and breathe at the same time. I have had three of these esophageal spasms, triggered by taking oral medications and supplements. I’ve described it as comparable to a swallow getting stuck but there is nothing causing an obstruction. It feels like I imagine a heart attack would because I can’t breathe. Scary isn’t a strong enough word. And it’s painful.
It’s a triple F moment for sure.
The same week as one of these spasms, I discovered I had mouth sores. They were on the inside lining of my mouth in both cheeks. Perhaps as far back as my throat. No wonder my mouth hurt! It explained my ongoing pain and difficulties eating and speaking in addition to swallowing. I called the triage line two days in a row. The previous day I called because my throat still hurt from the spasm episode and I discovered one whole pinky toe had turned into a flaming blister. The blister is a sign of hand foot syndrome. It turns out I need to keep rinsing my mouth throughout the day with warm salt water and keep my mouth as clean as possible. This easy at home solution worked quickly and the sores have resolved. Omneprozole is successfully preventing any more spasms.
Drugs are often prescribed to deal with side effects and they also have side effects of their own. It becomes a vicious cycle.
Serious side effects (more serious than those covered) like heart, liver, and kidney damage can also result from cancer treatments. The term side effect seems like it’s lacking when major organs can suffer permanent damage.
So . . . which side effect is the worst?
Whichever one is happening at the present moment.
Rarely are side effects ever on the side.
This smorgasbord sucks. I want to order off the menu and go straight to desserts. Ice cream sounds delightful.
I know my list is not complete as there are side effects I’ve dodged. Please share others if you’re comfortable.
What side effects have you found challenging? What has worked well to manage them? Please add your comments so others may benefit.
It’s my third time facing a treatment that has a strong (almost certain) chance of hair loss listed as a side effect. Total hair loss was a sure thing the first time I needed chemo. I went to the salon and had my head shaved. I had a wig but didn’t plan on wearing it. It didn’t look like me, feel like me, and it felt uncomfortable. I felt I retained my identity in a head wrap.
Cold caps at this time were being used in Germany but not in the U.S.
The second time where I was likely to experience hair loss was when new treatment followed oral capecitabine where my hair had already thinned considerably. My next line of treatment was likely to cause me to lose even more. This time around, I looked into cold caps. Some had been FDA approved and were being used in the U.S. I wanted to do it. The more I learned, the less of an option it became. Caps needed to be changed every twenty minutes. You needed someone to help change the caps. It needed to be worn before and after treatment – how long depended on the specific treatment you were receiving. I learned I would need to wear the cap a couple hours prior to and after treatment. I lived alone and I doubted I was going to find anyone who had full days to devote to cap changing. I also learned a person still lost up to half their hair. I didn’t have any more to lose since I already felt I had lost about half from my previous line of treatment. It was too much effort for something that maybe would sort of possibly work hopefully a little bit. I didn’t shave my head. I decided just to let hair fall out if it was going to. Most of it did with effects similar to if I had shaved it. I opted for a wig. I could avoid stares when out in public. It suited me. I felt like me. It was comfortable. I felt more normal and like myself.
I wigged for three years.
I finally had my hair back by last November. I love how it feels. It’s been a beautiful mess during the time quarantining during COVID. I found that ironic that I had all this lovely hair that no one ever saw and I couldn’t get done.
God sure has a sense of humor.
Then came the blow that I needed to change treatments and the best option would probably wipe out my hair for a third time. I didn’t want to see my hair go again. The emotions and tears attached to hair loss are intense. I decided to revisit the cold cap world and was somewhat relieved to learn there is now a machine at my treatment site provided by Paxman Scalp Cooling that a patient pays out of pocket to use. Please note my only connection to the company is as a customer using their product.
Everything is managed while you are on site receiving treatment. Nothing needs to happen at home. You are hooked up to this machine that pumps and keeps the cap cold. A nurse gets you ready, secures the cap, and runs the machine. You eventually take over and get ready on your own.
Why do I write I was only “somewhat” relieved? I still had to willingly freeze my head for a shot at keeping some hair and pay for the privilege of doing so. It still was probably going to thin, but I’d be starting with a full head of hair this time.
I would take a shot.
Cold caps or scalp cooling systems work when the scalp is cooled to reduce the amount of chemotherapy that reaches the hair follicles. The hope is hair may be less likely to fall out if less chemo gets there.
My head isn’t really frozen. The scalp is brought down from around 98.6°F to between 64°-72°F. It wasn’t an all over football Saturday in November kind of cold. It was more of an unnatural numbness of combined cold and heavy sensations that you could still feel. It does get better.
Time is broken down into four parts. There is a 30 minute pre cooling time to get your scalped cooled and ready to receive treatment. Doxil (doxorubicin liposomal) is what I’m getting and that takes 60 minutes to infuse. Then there is a 60 minute post cooling time period. Lastly, you thaw for about 15-20 minutes so hair isn’t ripped out of your head that is frozen to your inner cap when you remove it. It all adds up to just about 3 hours from start to finish.
What is it like?
It’s rather hilarious the process is called scalp cooling. I think the word cooling is used for some type of psychological effect. The machine was turned on and there is a whoosh of cold filling the cap. Seconds tick by and it indeed gets intensely cold in an instant.
A person is forewarned that the first ten to twenty minutes are the worst. After that, the scalp is numbed enough so it doesn’t feel as cold. I want to be crystal clear on what I feel. Fear fills almost every fiber of my being as I fight through the first ten minutes of each session. I wonder if I can get through this torture I’ve willingly chosen. The feeling of desperation is almost more unbearable than the intense cold. I have fought back tears for the few minutes every time. My tolerance for pain and discomfort is quite high. Living with metastatic breast cancer does that. I can barely keep it together.
But then I acclimate and focus on other distractions to pass my time.
The cold didn’t bother me as much as the tightness and chin strap. The chin strap is the worst part and almost intolerable. The covering worn over the cap must be kept on tightly so that the inner cap stays snug on your scalp. This makes it hard to talk and eat because it’s that tight.
Wearing a mask added another layer to my discomfort.
Feeling a little sick added yet another layer. I was fighting it and waffled back in forth from the root cause of feeling light-headed and woozy. Was it the drug? Was it the cold cap?
Both? Or was it just all in my head?
After I was disconnected from the Paxman cooling machine, there is a thawing out period of around fifteen minutes before the cold cap is removed so your hair isn’t adhered to the cap when taken off. Getting the chin strap released helped a lot.
Nurses are special humans. No ifs, and, or buts about it. I wasn’t feeling so hot after my first session. My lovely nurse gave me a head start to go get the car. Meredith wheeled my carry-on suitcase outside to the drop off lane and waited for me there so I wouldn’t have to lug it all the way to ramp and up flights of stairs. I still had two bags to carry on my own. Scalp cooling requires me to bring much more to my sessions.
How’s the cap working?
I’ve told very few people I’m scalp cooling. I wanted to see what happened. Nor did I see the point of a grand announcement since I don’t go very many places thanks to the pandemic. My new treatment qualifies as one that causes immunosuppression. Even fewer people see me.
I have had two rounds of Doxil (doxorubicin liposomal) so far. Cycle two went more smoothly. I didn’t feel sickish from the drug or the capping experience. Time passed a little more quickly. I am expecting each time to feel easier. I know what to expect and how to manage it all.
Success rates vary with different treatments. Paxman considers the cap successful if you keep 50% or more of your hair. My bar is higher. I want minimal loss with no visible bald spots. I’ve seen many pictures of women with bald spots on their crowns. Seeing these discourages me. Time will tell. Shedding is expected. Lots of shedding apparently.
Shedding is normal. Normal shedding is normal. There is NOTHING normal about chemo. Absolutely nothing. The bald spots on someone’s crown and other places on the head are referred to as shedding. Shedding on chemo goes far beyond normal shedding. A person is bald. My definition differs from Paxman.
Maybe I’m splitting hairs.
When a snake loses its skin, new skin is there to take its place. It’s not even a close call. A snake doesn’t have some bare spots where new skin didn’t develop. Shedding crosses a line quickly with certain chemos and it becomes hair loss. Call it what it is.
I should be wearing a wig or wrap by now if I weren’t scalp cooling. It’s been 45 days since my first cycle with Doxil. My hair doesn’t feel the same or look the same. I can wash it only weekly. There are many cautions against styling it. I am to refrain from getting it colored or cut. I even need to be careful combing it. But I still have it. I will count every day I have it as a win. So far, I’ve experienced minimal hair loss (or ahem, shedding).
I am fed up with accepting hair loss in my life. I’m hoping this third time is the charm and I have found a way to keep it.
If not, you’ll see me sporting a variety of looks and you will know it isn’t working as well as I hoped.
Fulvestrant (also known as Faslodex) is a treatment for estrogen positive metastatic breast cancer. It is usually given in conjunction with another drug used to treat MBC. It is received monthly through two injections into the muscle of each hip.
One notorious side effect is muscle soreness at the injection site that can last for several days. I worried about this one a lot. What I had read online painted a painful picture. The first injection cycle was a piece of cake. I wondered what all the fuss was about. I was thankful to have dodged pain.
I found out what all the fuss was about the following month when I had the next set of injections. I was still new to receiving these shots and was waffling back and forth between a clinic and hospital setting. This set was given at the hospital. I didn’t take the weight off the side getting injected. No one reminded me. I was in pain immediately. Pain radiated from my hips all the way down my legs. I spoke up but don’t remember getting much of a response. I felt sore afterward for up to a week. I was sent on my way with no reminders for aftercare.
There was plenty of anxiety around the injections that followed. When my original oncologist left the clinic and I completely switched all of my care to the hospital, I had an excellent nurse who was an expert on administering fulvestrant. Unfortunately, she has since moved on. I remember I learned a lot when she trained someone one day I received my shots. These are the tips I learned:
Tip #1 Take all the weight off the leg on the side receiving the injection. I knew this from previous instructions.
Tip #2 Stay active. Try to keep moving on the day they are given. Walk before or after. I had already been told that walking seemed to help.
Tip #3 Massage the area after injecting for a minute. It helps move the drug. It makes the injection site less sore.
Tip #4 There were also stretches very similar to a pigeon pose in yoga to help open up the hip area. Again the goal was to prevent soreness the next day. I do these every time.
I must be forgetting some, which sure would explain why side effects have flared up. Please add any additional tips by responding at the end of the post.
The last time I received my injections, a different nurse was training another nurse.
No mention of the massage.
No mention of the stretches.
I had to take over with those instructions. It frustrated me that I had to do some of the teaching. I apologize I don’t remember the nurse who was leading the training. I had not seen her before and she was in and out in a flash. She didn’t know me. However, I felt a sense of responsibility to share tips on what was useful for the patient, the one receiving the injections, because the patient carries home with them whatever side effects result from the treatment that show up that evening or the next day and stick around a day or so. It seemed like that was news to them. I hope they carry what I shared forward to other patients like me. We are more than a stunning pair of hip muscle areas.
I know my outlook is somewhat affected by what I’m calling pandemic brain. This may be a separate post. Pandemic brain is kind of like chemo brain in that thinking is affected by what is happening. Living a quarantined life is getting to me. It’s been ten weeks . . . and three days. I’m touchy and easily irritated by fools who are living in a world where they are the only one who matters. Nurses are taking huge risks daily as they are in close contact with those in their care. I am not directing my displeasure at them. Like I said, I’m frustrated, and some of that frustration flows over when I feel like I have to do something I ought not have to do. In this case, that means offering what I feel is information that should be standard care when training someone how to administer fulvestrant. I got the feeling my guidance was received as annoying interference.
I will continue to be assertive (not annoying) where my body is concerned.
It’s true that nurses must train one another about how to administer the injections correctly. I don’t have a problem with that practice. I feel their primary focus is to make sure proper procedure is followed. Minimizing patient discomfort at the time of the shots seems to be second. This is a part of following proper procedure in my mind. The two are very much connected. A far distant third seemed to be how I felt the next day or days after. It had an “out of sight – out of mind” vibe. All three matter like the sides of an equilateral triangle. Focus fully on training the nurse and administering the injection. Next, focus completely on the patient while receiving treatment. Finally, put all of the attention on aftercare so the patient continues to feel comfortable at home.
The last few times there has been more inflammation and soreness at the injection site. I am tired of my thighs and hips being inflamed and sore. I think a different area of my hip needs to be abused. I’m sorry, I meant used.
Side effects have lately made me feel medically battered. There is always something to manage. It has become routine and most of the time not a huge deal. I wait for times when I can experience my treatments and medications with zero negative effects. I feel like I’m asking for too much.