Dancing with the ‘Red Devil’

By John Bach

Julie musters a smile while the nurse administers a vial of Adriamycin, AKA, the ‘Red Devil’

There is a certain fraternity among breast cancer patients, a commonality if you will.

Sort of like Jeep owners who acknowledge one another on the open road, women on the third floor of UC’s Barrett Cancer Center exchange a sympathetic sad smirk. It is as if to say, “I feel ya” or “You got this girl.”

During Julie’s first treatment, her nerves were getting the best of her as she waited for the initial round of chemo drugs to be administered, and she broke down crying. The couple in the alcove nearby — clearly veterans at this point — noticed. Before we knew it, the tall, bald lady came over and rubbed her arm. 

“It’s going to be OK,” she said. “I didn’t think I could do it at first either. But God gets you through it. You’ll be OK baby. You are strong.”

As hard as things can be, it has been moments like this that remind us that hope overcomes hopelessness. Part of that optimism comes from knowing so many others have faced this already. In the U.S. alone, more than 281,000 people are diagnosed with breast cancer every year. That’s almost 800 a day.

Among the unfortunate experiences these women (and some men) have in common is a drug they have come to term as the “Red Devil.”

For many, the first phase of treatment involves two medications, Adriamycin and Cytoxan, or A/C, as cancer patients commonly refer to the cocktail.

Adriamycin earned the moniker “Red Devil,” both for its bright, red Kool-Aid color and its nasty side effects. It is also the one that nurses must don a gown before administering to their patients.

It isn’t lost on me that the slurry being pumped into Julie’s port is too dangerous to touch, yet, she’s getting three vials directly to the heart. Among the common side effects are low white blood cell count, appetite changes, hair loss, nausea, vomiting, mouth sores and, if that weren’t enough, a day or two of red pee.

A devil indeed. 

But that devil is also an anti-tumor antibiotic. The scary drug happens to kill cancer cells by damaging their genes and interfering with their reproduction. Ultimately, it reduces the risk of breast cancer coming back.

So, for the next couple of months, we’ll trust the science, and she’ll continue to dance with the devil because it turns out to be a necessary evil — one that ultimately helps bring healing.

That’s the irony of chemo. The poison is also the elixir, and the ladies on the third floor know it all too well. You can see the silent empowerment in their eyes when they pass.

 “You got this girl.”