May 16 - Introducing Wobbles - Tami Takes a Tumble
Chemo Brain Creates Tami's Unstable Alter Ego - Wobbles
Not unlike extreme alcohol poisoning, the hyper‑toxic chemical bombardment that chemotherapy sends through the bloodstream creates significant chemical imbalances that can seriously disrupt the brain. This is what’s commonly—and somewhat affectionately—referred to as “chemo brain.” The websites I reviewed to get an understanding of this, suggest that a majority of the chemo patients experience some degree of this. For Tami, the evening of Day 2 seems to be the worst. Because of that, I don’t allow her to be unsupervised for several days after each treatment.
After her first round of chemo, she was extremely confused, but her motor skills were mostly intact. Once we removed the take‑home chemo pump and she got a couple of days of solid rest, she was, cognitively speaking, okay.
Wobbles Takes a Nose Dive
This time, the side effects were far more severe. The confusion was much deeper, and she had almost no motor control. On the evening of Day 2, I was calling a dance about 90 miles from home, so my sister‑in‑law, Teri, came over to stay with her. Since Tami was sleeping, Teri settled in the living room.
A little after 9:00 PM, Tami decided she needed to use the bathroom. It’s something she’s done more than a million times in her life, so she didn’t think to alert her caretaker. She simply fought her way out of bed and started wobbling toward the bathroom. But she had no control over her legs, and her internal gyroscope was completely malfunctioning. She ended up face‑planting—hard—giving herself a pretty nasty shiner and a busted lip.
When I finished packing up after the dance, I texted Teri to see how our patient had fared for the evening. This is what I got back.
Not surprisingly, after that fall she developed an intense fear of falling again. Getting her up off of the bed to guide her to the bathroom was like trying to walk a jellyfish. I finally put her in an office chair, and pushed her to the bathroom. Getting her onto the toilet to pee became an hour‑long ordeal. I had her wrap her arms around my neck while I held her firmly around the waist to guide her down onto the seat. But because the seat was behind her and she couldn’t see it, all she felt was the sensation of falling. She fought it the whole way down, screaming in fear. Once she was finally seated, she spotted the sink next to the toilet and latched onto it with both hands. Eventually, we got her calm enough to do what she needed to do, but the entire process took nearly an hour.
Getting her back into bed was just as terrifying for her. I used the same “hug” technique to guide her backward onto the mattress, but again—because she couldn’t see it—she panicked. In the chaos, she bit me. She didn’t break the skin, and once she was settled, she apologized.
