Mean Mr. Mustard

The last few days have been tough. The night before my next round of chemo infusions, my right arm became unexpectedly painful. Very painful! I wondered if I had sprained it somehow, but the pain was deep and unlike typical muscle pain. That night, I woke several times with drenching sweats and pain unrelieved by my pain pills. An exam the next day at the oncology center determined that I had phlebitis--an inflammation of the veins in my arm.

One of the toxic chemicals being infused directly into my veins is nitrogen mustard. This chemical is a schedule 1 substance in the Chemical Weapons Convention. Mustard gas was used extensively in both world wars with devasting effects. Interestingly, it was the first compound used in cancer chemotherapy. It has the ability to prevent the normal functioning of DNA and is also a blistering agent. It seems that my second dose of this poison traumatized my veins leading to an inflammatory response.

Antibiotics and a stronger pain pill should see me through the next few days. I took my infusions this week in the left arm. Hopefully, it will hold out while the right arm heals. If not, there is a sleeve device that can be inserted into the vein to protect the walls during infusions.  I hope to avoid that because there is enough intrusion in my veins without inserting a device.

The sun was shining triumphantly today. Viola and I sat outside by the garden. I thought of the lovely day last fall when I held one of Monet's hydrangeas in my hand while visiting Giverny. This memory stimulates powerful healing energy flowing into that right arm. Like Monet, I derive a deep pleasure from gardening which touches the essence of being alive.