Temodar is the Work of Satan
Last week, I spent about 72 hours wearing pajama pants that I’d puked on.
I mean, Dan helped me spot clean them, but I was unable to change my clothes because I was so weak. That’s how bad my experience was with my first day of the maintenance Temodar (that’s the name of my oral chemo). I took my Zofran, then took the 320mg of Temodar about 30 minutes later and everything was fine.
Until it wasn’t.
Four hours after I took the pills, I tried to get myself to the bathroom. But I was surprised to find that I couldn’t even stand on my own. Dan had to get me there (and, unfortunately, had to lift me off the toilet when it was time). Then I broke out in the infamous rash, only it was worse times about a billion.
Then I tossed my cookies.
Then I couldn’t see.
Then sounds got muffled.
Then I tossed more cookies.
Then I went to bed.
It was scary, I’m not going to lie.
Dan checked on me every hour, taking my temperature. It peaked at about 100.7. (At 101.5 I have been instructed to visit the nearest ER.) We pondered going to the ER anyway, but once my temperature dropped, we figured we were out of the woods.
Plus there was still the matter of me not being strong enough to walk. I didn’t figure we could get me in the car, and there was no way in hell I was paying for an ambulance ride.
I still don’t feel right, and my oncologist and his nurse are trying to figure out what’s next. Needless to say, me and Temodar are so over.
I’m a week out, and I still can’t stand the sight or smell of food.
