Xeloda, Round Three

(Note: I wrote this yesterday, but technical difficulties -- I couldn't find a relevant image I liked -- prevented me from posting it. I'm too lazy to rewrite it.) 

Today began my third round on Xeloda (or rather, capecitabine, the generic alternative). And since nothing happens in the wonderful world of cancer treatment without port accesss and blood draws and lab tests and conversations with oncologists (or the PAs who work with oncologists), here's a quick rundown on some highlights from today's events.

The SCCA is apparently changing their computer system, at least according to today's phlebotomist. I couldn't tell if this was isolated to the lab or intended to have broader impacts, but all I can think is, good luck with that. IT and healthcare goes together like, well, cancer and chemotherapy; you seemingly can't have one without the other, but ultimately they just destroy one another. 

There's a hipster vibe at the SCCA which is rather entertaining. Last time one of the nurses helping out with my infusion would've fit right right in on the set of Agent Carter, and today my PA came in wearing some very striking frames in the exact shade of jade green as the streaks in her hair. If their cancer care is as good as their fashion sense, I'm in good hands.

My tumor markers are down, and liver function is back in the normal range. The numbers were good enough that the PA considered postponing the start of the Xeloda for a week to allow some time for the neuropathy to recede, but given I scheduled the Vietnam leg of the GCW Tour around the next two rounds of Xeloda and the intervening scan, we decided to stick with the established schedule. But now I get to add physical therapy to my regimen, as there are apparently exercises I can do to help manage the neuropathy.

The PA doubled the dose of the anti-neuropathy anti-depressant in the hopes that might help as well. I hope so. I actually tried cooking for the first time tonight, and found that the neuropathy actually made the task somewhat challenging. The lack of feeling in my fingertips made peeling garlic nearly impossible and chopping onions somewhat terrifying. 

But at least I didn't come home with an infusion pump. I'd take the loss of a fingertip or two over two days strapped to a pump. Happily, it didn't come to that.