Chemo day one really started off quite easy.
Good news: it's a holiday so we zipped into Mass General and found an easy parking space .
Bad news: it's a holiday; cafeterias closed and I forgot my bottle of water.
Good news: Lots of free snacks when you have chemo. Enough bottled water to hydrate a camel. Free lunch and discounted parking.
Bad news: Lab was understaffed. It took 3 hours to wait for my bloodwork to come back before I could start chemo.
Good news: massage therapist came around and gave me a foot massage. It was (almost) like being at a spa.
Bad news: Except you know, it's not a spa. Because people are hooked up to IV's and stuff getting chemo poured into their veins.
Directly across from me was a tired and weathered looking man and his wife who sat lovingly by his side reading a book; glancing up every now and then asking if he was doing okay. He had an oxygen tank and clearly this was not his first rodeo.
Diagonally from me was, I'm guessing, a fellow cancer girl. I heard her mention her new "hair do" and she rocked a pink baseball cap. She laughed a lot so I'm guessing she's had a few rounds already. She knew all the nurses by name. I looked at her- not with pity or sadness- but with a newfound respect and sisterhood.
Next to me was middle aged man. Let's call him M.A.M just so I don't have to write out middle aged man every time I want to refer to him.
M.A.M was not a happy guy. He raised his voice quite a bit and spent my first 30 minutes there yelling at two of the nurses. He was talking about his blood levels being low (I picked up he had multiple myeloma) and having lost a cousin to this recently; I understood his fear. I was getting quite upset at his yelling until the nurses left and he made a phone call.
M.A.M wasn't yelling anymore. He was crying. M.A.M was scared shitless just like tired man and my fellow cancer girl. I put on my headphones and turned up my music to drown out his sobs. Not because I was annoyed but because I was starting to sob myself.
I put on a recently downloaded meditation app (I know. I'm so zen now. Cancer does that to you. Makes you spiritual and zen. Makes you tell everyone in your life how much you love them. I swear I've told my husband 10 times today "thank you for being with me today". )
So all in all, after my foot rub, 3 hour wait until first med dripped in I was hanging in. Second med drip wasn't as fun as I had to have a large steroid dose as well as a large benadryl dose in case I had a reaction. (For those in the cancer know- first med is Herceptin and Second med is Taxol. For the rest of you, you can follow along as med one and med two) So benadryl coming through your port is not like drinking the nice little bubble gum benadryl that you have in your medicine cabinet for your kids. It's a big whoosh. Like a real whoosh of a head rush. 10 minutes later I was asleep. I'm home and feel like I was run over by a truck only because I'm so tired but it wasn't bad. New nurse K told me that symptoms are cumulative. Hair should thin; than fall out, most likely week 2 or 3. Fatigue, joint pain, mouth crap : cumulative.
So kids, this sh$% just got real.
Please hold middle aged man, the other cancer girl and M.A.M (along with all the others I'm about to meet on this journey) in your prayers.
Because you can be zen like and spiritual with me too.
Good news: it's a holiday so we zipped into Mass General and found an easy parking space .
Bad news: it's a holiday; cafeterias closed and I forgot my bottle of water.
Good news: Lots of free snacks when you have chemo. Enough bottled water to hydrate a camel. Free lunch and discounted parking.
Bad news: Lab was understaffed. It took 3 hours to wait for my bloodwork to come back before I could start chemo.
Good news: massage therapist came around and gave me a foot massage. It was (almost) like being at a spa.
Bad news: Except you know, it's not a spa. Because people are hooked up to IV's and stuff getting chemo poured into their veins.
Directly across from me was a tired and weathered looking man and his wife who sat lovingly by his side reading a book; glancing up every now and then asking if he was doing okay. He had an oxygen tank and clearly this was not his first rodeo.
Diagonally from me was, I'm guessing, a fellow cancer girl. I heard her mention her new "hair do" and she rocked a pink baseball cap. She laughed a lot so I'm guessing she's had a few rounds already. She knew all the nurses by name. I looked at her- not with pity or sadness- but with a newfound respect and sisterhood.
Next to me was middle aged man. Let's call him M.A.M just so I don't have to write out middle aged man every time I want to refer to him.
M.A.M was not a happy guy. He raised his voice quite a bit and spent my first 30 minutes there yelling at two of the nurses. He was talking about his blood levels being low (I picked up he had multiple myeloma) and having lost a cousin to this recently; I understood his fear. I was getting quite upset at his yelling until the nurses left and he made a phone call.
M.A.M wasn't yelling anymore. He was crying. M.A.M was scared shitless just like tired man and my fellow cancer girl. I put on my headphones and turned up my music to drown out his sobs. Not because I was annoyed but because I was starting to sob myself.
I put on a recently downloaded meditation app (I know. I'm so zen now. Cancer does that to you. Makes you spiritual and zen. Makes you tell everyone in your life how much you love them. I swear I've told my husband 10 times today "thank you for being with me today". )
So all in all, after my foot rub, 3 hour wait until first med dripped in I was hanging in. Second med drip wasn't as fun as I had to have a large steroid dose as well as a large benadryl dose in case I had a reaction. (For those in the cancer know- first med is Herceptin and Second med is Taxol. For the rest of you, you can follow along as med one and med two) So benadryl coming through your port is not like drinking the nice little bubble gum benadryl that you have in your medicine cabinet for your kids. It's a big whoosh. Like a real whoosh of a head rush. 10 minutes later I was asleep. I'm home and feel like I was run over by a truck only because I'm so tired but it wasn't bad. New nurse K told me that symptoms are cumulative. Hair should thin; than fall out, most likely week 2 or 3. Fatigue, joint pain, mouth crap : cumulative.
So kids, this sh$% just got real.
Please hold middle aged man, the other cancer girl and M.A.M (along with all the others I'm about to meet on this journey) in your prayers.
Because you can be zen like and spiritual with me too.
Comments
Post a Comment