My first chemo treatment was scheduled for March 5, 2015. My port stitches were removed the previous day. I began treatment with the blessings of Dr. Legarde, but she gave me some things to consider while I was undergoing treatment. She recommended I have a double mastectomy following chemo and radiation. Her reasoning was that the surgery would alleviate the need for future mammograms and would remove the possibility of the cancer returning in the breast.

Neither Wayne nor I were certain this was a good idea. I did like that the cancer couldn't return to the breast, but if it were to return, the other options were not any better. The only thing that I liked about the idea was that I could have reconstructive surgery that built new breasts from stomach fat. How cool would it be to get rid of my belly at the same time I got new improved breasts?

All thoughts of possible future surgeries vanished on the morning of March 5. Wayne suggested we go out for breakfast before chemo commenced. I agreed, realizing this could be the last meal that tasted normal for some time. One of the usual side effects of chemo is a change in how things taste. Bernadette told me that everything tasted somewhat metallic to her. Another friend told me that all food had altered tastes and that she didn't get any pleasure from eating once chemo started. Judy had indicated this as a possible side effect, as well. She said it was the reason many cancer patients lost weight; they lost their appetite because food tasted strange.

At the cancer center, I had blood drawn and then saw Dr. Hansen before going upstairs for my treatment. He answered any questions we had. When Wayne asked him if there was any advantage to having a double mastectomy, Dr. Hansen said that statistically there was no advantage in removing the second breast. He said removal of the diseased breast had no statistical advantage over a lumpectomy, but he usually recommended it because if cancer returned to the original site, it was usually harder to treat. He assured us that these were decisions that did not need to be made until much later in the process.

Before going upstairs, I was given a medicine called Emend. I would take it for three days. It was a high powered antinausea medicine. I would also receive an antinausea agent in my IV before starting chemo. In addition, I was prescribed the two medicines Judy had told me I would have for nausea: Zofran and Phenergan. I was again instructed to take them at the first sign of nausea.

Next I went to the infusion center. I was escorted to a cubicle that contained a recliner that had heat settings for your back and seat. Sweet. I am chronically cold. Wayne said I'm like a snake; I have to crawl out on a rock in the sun to get warm. Perhaps the fact that my body temperature is a degree below normal has something to do with it. They also brought me a blanket straight out of the warmer. I was provided with a set of headphones so I could watch TV or movies or listen to music on a small set attached to the wall near my recliner. While I was thus set up for comfort, Wayne was directed to a straight-backed chair with minimal padding at the edge of the cubicle.

"At least you can hook up to the free WiFi and surf the net on your tablet." I grinned at him. "And with the troubles you've had with your back, a straight-back chair will be good for you."

He smiled back. "I'll take an uncomfortable chair over a chemo IV any day."

A nurse came to explain the procedure. She would put an IV into my port and flush it. She would then draw out a bit of blood just to make sure she would be putting the noxious chemicals directly into the bloodstream. Noxious is my word, not hers. The flush went without a hitch, but when she tried to draw blood out, nothing happened. She frowned slightly and tried again.

"Sometimes the tube from the port gets a kink where it goes around the collar bone, or it gets too close to the vessel wall. It's not unusual to have a problem the first time the port is used. Try raising your left hand," she instructed.

Still no blood appeared. The nurse removed the needle and inserted a fresh one. "Maybe I inserted it too close to the gasket," she explained.

Still nothing. Wayne was starting to get nervous. He didn't care for needles being stuck into his loved ones. I hoped he wasn't about to faint. He was more worried that they would have to abort the chemo than anything, though. The nurse assured us that she had more tricks up her sleeve.

She gave me a shot of a clot buster drug, just in case a small clot was blocking the tube. She called it a port "roto rooter." After thirty minutes, she tried to draw blood again. No blood. "Let's give it 30 more minutes," she said. When she tried again, at first she got nothing but then came a slight red tinge. She thought she had it, but nothing else red appeared.

She had me raise my right hand. Nada. She had me lean forward. No blood.

Sighing, she said, "I'll have to call your doctor and see if he wants to do an xray to make sure the port is positioned correctly."

She left to make the call and to consult with the head nurse. The second nurse took me to a room where there was a hospital bed. She laid me flat on my back and voile, instant blood return. With a grin, she took me back to the cubicle and tried again. With me sitting up, the attempt was again unsuccessful. We went back to the bed and the port again cooperated.

"You're just going to have to get your treatment lying flat on your back," she told me.

I regretted having to leave my heated recliner, but I was glad to finally get the show on the road. I was given an antinausea drug and a steroid via IV before getting the three drug chemo cocktail. The steroid was to reduce the possibility of an allergic response to the drugs.

First up was the red devil. The nurse had to manually push the drug over a fifteen minute span. This drug was the reason the blood return was necessary. If it touched my skin, it would cause a chemical burn. It was such a danger that the cancer center would not deliver it via a regular IV into a small vein in the arm.

Once they started the second drug, Taxotere, Wayne left to run a few errands and bring back lunch. We had already been here as long as the estimated three to four hours. It would take a little over two more hours to administer the remaining drugs.

Wayne brought me back a tuna salad sub. It tasted great. "I guess this is my last normal tasting meal," I told Wayne.

The last of the chemo cocktail was Cytoxan. It too took an hour to infuse. By the time the last drug was in and I was released, we had been at the cancer center for six hours. I was told to return the next day for my Neulasta shot. The nurse warned me that I needed to drink plenty of fluid, at least twice the usual amount in order to flush the chemicals out of my body. I had already been told that I was to drink a minimum of 72 ounces of fluid every day while I was taking chemo.

That night around 8:30, I felt a slight nausea. Drinking cold water kept it at bay, but remembering the warning that it was best to attack nausea as soon as it raised its head, I took an Phenergan at 9:30. The nurses had warned that the steroid might make sleep difficult and to use the sleep inducing nausea pill to help overcome that side effect. I went straight to sleep, but awoke shortly after 11:00 feeling very nauseous. I had no desire to get out of my warm bed to take another nausea pill and so decided to sleep it off. When my bladder woke me at 2:30, the nausea was gone. When I finally got up at 9:00 am and ate some yogurt, I was slightly nauseous and so I took a Zofran. I took a couple of nausea pills later in the day, but I never approached the need to vomit.

Another side effect did surface. I awoke with loose bowels the second day. Since this was just the opposite of what I was told to expect, I was surprised. I got out my literature and read. It said that diarrhea was an unusual and dangerous side effect. The paperwork Judy had given me recommended calling your physician if you had several movements in a short time period. When Pepto Bismol, my usual self medication, provided no relief, I called Judy. She suggested I try Immodium and said she would call in a stronger prescription medication that I could alternate with the Immodium. She told me that this problem would deplete my electrolytes so it was imperative that I get lots of fluid including powerade or gatorade or something similar with a high salt content

I was able to report on my Facebook feed that the prayers for no nausea had been answered. While I had been slightly nauseous, the medicine easily controlled it, and it was gone by the end of the second day. This set the tone for the remainder of my chemo. I rarely had to take more than one or two nausea pills after a chemo session.

The Bible tells us to pray specifically. My request that my prayer warriors ask God to keep me from suffering from nausea was answered. I never had to refill the prescriptions I was given for either medication. Both bottles were still half full when I finished chemo. The Bible also tells us God will give us more than we ask or imagine. Not only did I not suffer from nausea, but neither did my taste suffer. The metallic taste I had been forewarned about never plagued me. The only taste problem I encountered occurred as the skin thinned on my tongue; I had to cut back on pepper because my tongue eventually became extremely sensitive. Since I usually put some kind of pepper on everything I eat, this was strange but certainly easily tolerated. It also gave me a better understanding of my husband who has always had a sensitive tongue that does not tolerate pepper well. I now know that he probably is not faking his intolerance.