Insight: Commemorating Cisplatin Cocktails

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

Speaking as someone who has firsthand experience in surviving cancer treatment, I offer the following helpful hints should you, a friend or a family member be subjected to learning that the physician’s diagnosis is cancer.

Nobody ever expects to hear that news but if you are diagnosed these days, know that you are not alone and that many others have gone through that same traumatic experience and overcome it. My own experience taught me that there are many ways to be supportive while also inspiring others to do the same for those dealing with one of the toughest health battles they will ever face.

I recall being told by my doctor following exploratory surgery in 1998 that he had good news and bad news for me. I asked for the bad news first and he informed me that I had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, and he had told my family that I had 90 days to live. If that was the “bad” news, I asked him what the “good news” could be and he explained that he had sent my results to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota and doctors there disagreed, saying with chemotherapy and possibly more surgery, I would be fine.

After that scare, I resolved to follow the doctor’s treatment program and place my well-being in his hands.

In my parent’s days, being diagnosed with cancer was a death sentence and sent families scurrying to the funeral home for pre-arrangements. But I learned that surgical advancements over the years, improved technology and more powerful chemotherapy drugs for many types of cancers give us much better survival chances in the 21st century. 

My insurance plan obtained through work paid for my chemotherapy, but there was a hitch. I needed to receive it as a hospital in-patient, so I would be admitted for five days, Mondays through Fridays, and then discharged for the next nine days to recover at home before starting the process all over again. My cisplatin chemotherapy was so strong it would take at least six full days before I started feeling able to get out bed again and dreading my return to the hospital for another treatment in a few days.

If there was a positive aspect to my chemotherapy, all my hair eventually fell out during treatments, so I saved on haircuts. It stopped beard growth too, so I didn’t have to shave. The negative side effects for me were that I couldn’t eat and lost 71 pounds, falling from 171 to 100 in 35 days. I also felt nauseous the entire time I was awake. No matter what I tried to eat, it tasted metallic, sort of like ball-point pen ink.

My advice to caregivers for those in chemotherapy is to be patient during meals. Eating something is better than not at all, even if it’s a vanilla milkshake.

Out of everyone I worked with and my inner circle of friends and family, I learned that only a few were willing to visit me during my hospital stays or drop by to see me at home. I’m not sure if they thought I was contagious and they could catch cancer by visiting me, but I’d like to think it was that it was painful for them to see me lying in bed in bad shape. At first, I had many phone calls from friends and family from around the country, but as time went on, those calls became fewer as life went on as I sat on the sidelines.

I encourage those newly diagnosed with cancer and their families and friends to look upon cancer treatment as if it’s merely an inconvenience. People with cancer are the same as before their diagnosis and crave the time they spend with you.

Also, it’s important to not go off the deep end when interacting with those receiving cancer treatment. My mother had a friend who belonged to a church knitting club, and she talked the group into making me woolen caps to wear during the extreme heat and humidity of summer in Florida.

Another fellow who volunteered to drive me to my oncology appointments thought he knew exactly what would make me feel better. He would stop at Walmart before picking me up and buy a 25-cent can of root beer soda pop for me to drink on the way to the appointment. Each time he did that always ended with the same result. The carbonation in the beverage got to me and it inevitably would either come out my nose after a sip or expelled by mouth ala Mount St. Helens.

Expect to ride a roller coaster of emotions. I never experienced stronger emotions than during my cancer treatment and at times I was overwhelmed, worried, anxious, angry, and profoundly sad. Many other times I was filled with gratitude for simple gestures or offers to help me or thankful for those who offered me hope or brought me cheeseburgers or took me outside to breathe fresh air when I was in the hospital.

The real key to overcoming cancer in my opinion is faith, clinging to optimism for the future and living your life as normally as possible. <