A mammoth undertaking

While I was receiving chemotherapy I found myself throwing up almost every morning. I learned not to take all my pills first thing, as I would inevitably lose them, or some part of them, but wouldn’t know how many or even whether I could take replacement pills. But at least the vomiting did stop me from feeling sick.

We — the palliative care team and I — worked on this for quite a while, and eventually settled on a regime of pills that stopped me both feeling sick and vomiting. The big potential downside, as far as I was concerned, was a little thing known as tardive dyskinesia, which Wikipedia says is “characterized by repetitive, involuntary, purposeless movements” and can be brought on by taking either Haloperidol (an anti-psychotic drug) or Metoclopramide (an anti-emetic) drug. The “tardive” part of the condition’s name means that the effects can come on even after you stop taking the drug. Scary. That’s why I wanted to cut down the number of Metoclopramide I was taking as soon as the chemotherapy finished. Indeed I was successful in reducing the dose from eight 10mg tablets per day down to three, which is the normal anti-emetic dose.

On Monday this week, however, the early morning vomiting started again. I’ve tried taking an extra Metoclopramide last thing at night in the hope that it will stop me from vomiting in the morning, but it hasn’t worked so far. I have a feeling I may well have to increase the dose still further, although I shall have to wait to discuss that with the palliative care team, probably next week now. My main worry, of course, is that this development means that the tumour is growing once again.

At least the sacrificial cup of tea is all that I lose, as I now know what is coming. I take the rest of my medication after breakfast, and am able to lead an almost normal life for the rest of the day.