The Other Side of Treatment

![[Photo Credit: The Calgary Herald]](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/fe7f26_1f0e3566c7884c5da057803b8dcd78b1~mv2.jpeg/v1/fill/w_350,h_279,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_avif,quality_auto/fe7f26_1f0e3566c7884c5da057803b8dcd78b1~mv2.jpeg)
So, apparently, these things can sneak up on you--the side effects, the symptoms, the cataclysmic consequences. For two days after my first treatment for amyloidosis, the treatment comprising chemotherapy and steroids and a host of other support meds, I felt I'd dodged a bullet, like I was one of those lucky ones who was mercifully immune to having toxins in my body. But the weekend arrived, the cancer clinic Help Line closed, and it all came crashing down.
My feet (and other sensitive parts of my body) began swelling up to twice their normal size. My lung capacity diminished and I was reduced to gasping for air in the middle of the night. Climbing the stairs felt like an assault on a mountain, making me rest at each step along the way. And the headaches were like shards of glass at my temples!
The medical attention was fast and responsive when, finally, I got through to the Help Line on Monday morning. Adjustments have now been made to the ingredients of the treatment cocktail and other meds have been tweaked as well. I have a nurse who calls or texts me every day for progress reports. Depending on how things are going later today, she may suggest that I readmit myself to the hospital to go on an IV drip to lessen the effects of the symptoms and bring some relief to my overworked heart.
My days have become so unpredictable that I don't dare commit myself to coffee with a friend or to that concert for which we bought tickets months ago. Every new day is a matter of "wait and see." Which means there's a lot of waiting and not so much getting out there and seeing. It's a kind of Twilight Zone of Unwellness that seems to drift along without definable boundaries, like it could go on forever. But it won't. We'll eventually get out the other side of this, and we'll see if it fixed anything or bought for me any more time.
The full story is launched today on my page on Substack. It's called Sick to Death, a serialized account of this whole experience. (You can reach that page by pasting this in your browser: https://substack.com/@brianpearson2; once there, you can subscribe for free by providing your email address when it asks you.) But I think I'll continue giving these shorter thumbnail updates here on my blog page for those who want the latest news. It's good to know you're there.





And here I was about to send you an email saying I hope the anti 'chemo-side effects' medications were working. I'm sorry you are experiencing these disabling effects. I can't imagine.......