"The surgery was surprisingly easy, but the IV drip was hell"—On lung surgery and XELOX

Last time, I wrote about how I found out about my lung metastasis through the reception slip for my regular checkup.

"If it can be removed, remove it." Based on my experience so far, my decision-making criteria were already set.

This time, I will talk about that second surgery—the lung surgery—and the chemotherapy (XELOX therapy) that began afterward.

To be honest, I'll state this upfront: this installment is about how "the surgery (and hospital stay) I was bracing myself for was surprisingly easy, while the IV drip I had taken lightly was absolute hell."

The usual pattern of not hearing back until the day before admission

June 2024. I was to be hospitalized again for surgery on my lung metastasis.

Here, the "we will contact you about the admission date by the day before" issue, which I also wrote about during my colostomy surgery (Episode 5), came up again.

Since it was my second time, I wasn't surprised, but my feeling that "you can't just take time off work on such short notice..." remained unchanged.

This explanation in the hospital ward seems to be a standard procedure. So, this time as well, I got the schedule from my attending physician and started making arrangements based on that rough estimate.

...I received the call on the scheduled admission date as expected, and was admitted without incident.

The day before surgery

The surgical procedure was a segmentectomy of the left lower lobe and lymph node dissection.

Perhaps because it was lung surgery, I feel there were more explanations about the surgery, such as pre-operative details and potential risks, than last time.

The day of surgery

A nurse came to pick me up at my hospital room, and we headed to the operating room. Even though it was my second time, heading to the operating room is still very nerve-wracking.

I lay down on the operating table, and after the preparations, I heard the same voice as before: "The anesthesia is going in now."

...A few seconds later. As expected, when I realized it, the surgery was over.

This time, I had a memory of "responding to something" with the nurse and my family as the anesthesia wore off and I regained consciousness. However, I don't remember what I responded with. (According to my family, I apparently responded clearly just like last time, though...)

I spent the night in the ICU just like that.

Post-operative anxiety

Honestly, I was terrified.

During my first colorectal surgery, I nearly developed an ileus (intestinal obstruction) post-operatively, so they inserted a tube through my nose to drain the gas. I have a severe gag reflex, and it was such a painful experience that my screams echoed through the hallway.

There were many other restrictions, and my hospital stay was difficult in various ways. That is why this time, I was bracing myself, hoping, "I hope it won't be too painful..."

……However—it was surprisingly smooth, to the point of being anticlimactic.

Of course, there were difficulties different from last time. I couldn't sleep at all on the first day while under observation in the ICU, and even after moving to a regular room, I was inconvenienced for about two days because I couldn't leave the room due to oxygen therapy. Coughing caused pain inside my chest, so it was tough unless I tried hard to suppress it.

However, these were within expectations, or rather, just the natural consequence that "it hurts if you get cut." From the third day, I was able to move around normally, and I was able to eat regular meals right away.

And with nothing particularly unexpected happening, I was discharged in less than a week after the surgery.

Having had such a hard time last time, this hospital stay made me realize how much the post-operative experience differs depending on the content and site of the surgery.

I was truly relieved that I was able to be discharged without any issues.

Work during hospitalization

My hospitalization was covered within my paid leave.

This time, unlike my previous hospitalization, I was in a position one step lower within the company. However, more than that, it was significant that I had prioritized my health and made thorough preparations in advance.

Thanks to that, the handover to my supervisor went smoothly, and I was able to give the same explanations to my subordinates as last time, allowing me to face the situation with a perfect system in place.

My state of mind was completely different. I am really glad I made preparations in advance.

The problem started after I was discharged

For a while, I had to be careful in my daily life because even the slightest thing would cause pain around my lungs. Even so, there were no particular problems in the post-discharge examinations, and I was able to return to work immediately.

——The real trial was waiting after this.

During the post-discharge examination and consultation, there was an explanation about post-operative chemotherapy.

In my case, since it was a metastasis of rectal cancer, the explanation was that post-operative anticancer drug treatment (XELOX therapy) would be the standard treatment, and that I could choose whether or not to receive it.

And, unlike the capecitabine monotherapy I had before, I was told that I would need to receive an IV drip called oxaliplatin once every three weeks as an outpatient.

Until now, my only chemotherapy was an oral medication called capecitabine. Although I experienced fatigue and rough skin on my hands and feet, it was at a level I could manage.

But this time, an IV drug called oxaliplatin is being added. My doctor explained, "There is a possibility that side effects will be severe."

Starting in July 2024, my post-operative chemotherapy (XELOX therapy) began. One cycle is three weeks, for a total of eight cycles. The duration is planned to be about six months.

At the time, I didn't think about it too deeply.

"They say side effects vary by person, and I managed with the previous capecitabine, so I'll probably be fine," I thought.

—I would later deeply regret this complacency.

I was plunged into despair by the very first IV drip

Since I had returned to work, I started using paid leave to go to the hospital.

The flow for chemotherapy IVs is to first have a blood test, and then have a preliminary consultation based on those results. I have to get the blood test about two hours before the scheduled consultation time.

I wait about an hour and a half for the test results, and then finally have the doctor's consultation. The results were fine, so I received an explanation and checked in at the infusion center.

Here, I had to wait another one to two hours... "Waiting time" is definitely one of the painful parts of outpatient treatment.

I was finally called, sat on a sofa in a partitioned room, received an explanation from the nurse, and the IV was prepared. Before the chemotherapy, saline and anti-nausea medication were administered.

And after a while, the first chemotherapy IV finally began to flow.

I had been told it would take about two hours in total, so I was nonchalantly watching videos on my smartphone.

The first few minutes passed without anything in particular. But after about 15 minutes, the area where the IV was inserted started to feel numb, and the numbness gradually spread. Other than that, I wasn't bothered yet.

I felt something was wrong after more than an hour had passed.

When I felt the urge to urinate and tried to go to the restroom, I realized, "My eyelids are heavy, I feel dizzy." I headed to the restroom with caution.

Furthermore, it was when I touched the restroom doorknob. "Tingling"—a sensation came from my hand. It was the "cold sensitivity" I had been told about in advance.

I managed to relieve myself, and when I tried to wash my hands, it was "tingling" again. The sensation was stronger than before, and I couldn't help but wince.

The sink in the infusion center restroom uses warm water, but it's the type that is cold at first before the warm water comes out (you know what I mean, right?). So, I learned through personal experience that I have to wait a little before washing my hands.

I managed to be careful and make it back to the sofa in my room, but by then, the fatigue had already become severe.

I somehow finished the remaining time, and when I drank the bottled tea I had bought before the IV, I felt a tingling sensation—this time, a cold stimulus from my throat. It was tea that had been sitting for about three hours since I bought it, with only a little bit of coldness left. And yet, this happened.

Honestly, I was worried about what was to come. That day, I had my family come to pick me up, and I somehow managed to get home.

Even after getting home, touching cold things caused a tingling, painful sensation. I couldn't drink cold beverages. I couldn't eat cold food. My whole body felt sluggish, sleepy, and nauseous. Everything hit me all at once.

“Individual differences, or rather... I guess I’m on the bad side of this.”

Honestly, it was painful. I had no choice but to rest, but the nausea made even resting difficult; it was a helpless situation.

Moreover, this unbearable state lasted for about three days. From there, it gradually eased, but it ended up dragging on for about two weeks.

The IV was once every three weeks. Just when I thought I had finally recovered in the last week, the next IV would come along. That fact really took a toll on me mentally as well.

I’m glad I didn’t hold back and talked about it honestly

The turning point was the second cycle.

I honestly told the doctor that the first cycle had been so painful. As a result, they were able to address it immediately.

They adjusted the dosage of the medication (reduced it) and added anti-nausea medication for during the IV and for afterward as well.

First, the reduction in dosage made the sluggishness during the IV a little lighter. And the state after returning home, while still difficult, was a little better. By about the 10th day, it had settled down to a level where I could recover quite well.

I had somewhat thought that since reducing or stopping anticancer drugs would make them ineffective, it was something you just had to “endure in silence.”

But after actually undergoing it, I learned that treatment that is so painful you can’t live your life is difficult to continue in itself.

It is better to be honest for the sake of dealing with subsequent side effects. Doctors cannot address issues if you don’t tell them. So, when you are in pain, you must be honest about it. This is truly important.

I somehow made it through 8 cycles

Thanks to the dosage reduction and anti-nausea medication, I was able to continue after that, and as a result, I was able to endure up to 8 cycles.

However, anticancer treatment was not something that ended just because the treatment was over.

Even after the treatment ended, chronic fatigue and numbness in my hands and feet—especially my feet—did not easily go away. I heard that the effects of oxaliplatin on the peripheral nerves accumulate with each repeated dose.

In fact, the numbness in my feet would continue to persist long after this.

It is not guaranteed that you will return to your original physical state once treatment ends. I learned that firsthand.

Taking a leave of absence and household finances

During this treatment, I took a leave of absence once again.

Initially, I consulted with my supervisor about trying to get by using paid leave only on clinic days or days when I felt particularly unwell. However, I realized during the first cycle that this was impossible, so I immediately used up my remaining paid leave, and after that ran out, I arranged for a leave of absence.

It took time to recover even after the chemotherapy ended, and I ended up taking a leave of absence until March 2025.

I was able to receive the injury and sickness allowance. However, because my standard monthly remuneration, which serves as the basis for benefits, had decreased due to reduced working hours, demotion, and the elimination of management allowances, the amount I could receive was lower than before. Furthermore, because there is also an adjustment for the difference with the disability employees' pension, the benefit amount became quite small.

Around this time, I began to manage by dipping into my savings. Our household finances were definitely becoming tighter than before.

Even so, my company did not suggest I resign, and the people in my department were understanding, so I did not end up in a situation where I had to quit. I think this was significant.

Being able to remain with a company has practical benefits, such as lighter social insurance premiums and the ability to utilize company systems.

If you absolutely must quit, then it cannot be helped, but otherwise, I think it is better to utilize company systems and not make the impulsive choice to "quit."

(That said, to be honest, from around this time, the thought that "I need to consider quitting someday" also began to cross my mind little by little.)

I have summarized the details regarding the injury and sickness allowance during leave, the disability pension, and managing household finances in the paid article below.

I hope it serves as a reference for those who are feeling anxious about money.

Conclusion

There were two things I learned this time.

One is that "the things I thought would be light were actually heavy." The surgery I braced myself for ended easily, while the IV I had underestimated was hell. You never know what is waiting for you until you try. That is why I keenly felt that one must never let their guard down.

The other is that "it is okay to be honest about your pain." By consulting without holding back, the treatment became much easier.

After finishing the grueling chemotherapy, I returned to work with reduced hours in March 2025. Even though I still had numbness in my hands and feet, chronic mild fatigue, and abdominal discomfort, I thought I could return to my daily life—that is what I believed.

But that daily life did not last long.

Next time, I will write about the "lump" that was not found during regular checkups but that I discovered myself when I happened to touch it.

Thank you for reading until the end.

※ This article is a record based on the author's personal experience and does not guarantee the accuracy or effectiveness of any specific system, procedure, or medical practice. The information posted may vary depending on the time and circumstances. In the unlikely event that any damage or disadvantage occurs due to the information in this article, the author cannot be held responsible, so please make final decisions at your own risk.