During Interleukin-2 (IL-2) infusion treatments at Providence Cancer Center, I lived in a room with strategically placed “Risk to Fall” signs. I was confined to an alarm bed that notified the nurses immediately if I ever attempted to leave the bed without supervision. In addition, I was wired for constant EKG and 15-minute blood pressure monitoring.
You might say, the hospital was working overtime to mind “Risk to Fall.” IL-2 treatment causes lowered blood pressure, which can produce sudden fainting and serious falls; Providence has devised near-fool-proof safety measures.
Unfortunately, my personal calculations about Risk to Fall haven’t been trustworthy.
On January 4, Eddy and I were staying at a hilly location in South Eugene, when a regional snow and ice storm was causing traffic disruption in the Willamette Valley. We had already wintered over an extra night and we were eager to return to Portland.
With a cavalier calculation of risk, I dressed for the cold and ventured out to recon the nearby roads on foot — to determine whether it is safe to drive. As I was completing a one-mile loop, at a short downhill stretch on asphalt, my feet suddenly slipped out from under me and I toppled backward on bum, back, and head.
I was shocked; why would such a short fall hurt like this? Better lie still for a moment in case I black out. Will this pain subside, should I call for help, will my body go into shock?
I was able to rise and hobble back to the house where we were staying. There I curled up on the carpet, blanketed to avoid shock and we discussed options for first aid, settling on a muscle relaxant and tylenol. Later, in Portland, we checked me into immediate care and got prescription for heavy duty muscle relaxants, anti-inflammatories, and pain medication. The doctor’s opinion was that I have a muscular-skeletal injury, probably no broken bones or nerve damage.
The past few days have been challenging. There’s no way to get comfortable without pain management, which wears off in too-few hours. Sleep is fitful and populated with “interesting” dreams.
Many people with cancer wind up with a heightened risk of falling, as a side-effect of treatment or of the disease itself. I now realize how overconfident I have been about walking in ice and snow.