May 31, 2006 - Day 1 - Week 9 - Round Three

Requisite hug by Nellie, (I thought this was reserved for me, but Nellie hugs every one of her clients) staff calling all patients by their first name, plugged in and hooked up, I sat back to observe what was happening all around me.

Today’s gathering of patients is what one expects to see in the treatment center of a cancer clinic. Everyone was old, and  I was the pup, perhaps not by much in some cases, but Peter the Younger would certainly apply as my name today.

Two arrived under the watchful eye of a care giver chauffer. Wheelchairs are wonderful. They allow even the most infirmed some mobility.   3 to 1 women to men today - little noisier in the room, but the Tylenol took affect quickly and I was ready for a nap.

One nurse asked the other to be the needle sticker today; and I quote:  ‘there is no reason for her to be tortured today.’  Yes, each needle stick in chemo is a reminder of our fragile nature. It is important to know what works for each individual, but being pro-active and telling where you would like the needle and the size of the needle is important.  The relief on the face of the woman seated next to me as the needle found the vein on the first try was pure delight.

Like every profession, there are some who have skills that set them apart from the pack. A good nurse is indispensable.  I am lucky, I am surrounded by many.

An aside:  I was just informed by my doctor that my blood sugar was sub-optimal; that means it was too darn high today.  Memorial Day dinner of salmon and roasted vegetables would never be the culprit, but 3 pieces of watermelon and 3 spoonfuls of toffee crunch ice cream did the trick.  I refrained from the Dove bar Popsicle that all enjoyed, but I sinned boldly on the seedless sweet melon.  Dr. Piro scolded me, gave me a stern look, and said no wonder – “it is simply water and sugar.”  And, Nellie chimed in; you should have had the Dove Bar.

I told Larry Piro that I was going away for a little rest and relaxation.  Well, that is good news and bad news.  The good news is that I am getting away with Katy and some friends, but the tether is long and I have to report into a hospital in Montana on Monday for a blood test.  Oh well, I’ve never been to a hospital in Montana. I hope there are good needle stickers there.

Having to be tethered to the clinic is probably the hardest part of the whole ordeal.  I have not had a leash and collar on for most of my life, the collar yes, but the leash no, but now everything is scheduled in relation to and around chemo therapy treatments. Add to that the necessary extra shots to keep my white and red blood cells in check, blood work, and dialogue with the doctor it is clear, I can run, but I can not hide.

A few minutes into my treatment a fellow traveler on the journey, and as I learned later was old character actor and friend of John Wayne, inquired of his doctor, “Can you throw a little Jack Daniels into this?”  I suppose intravenously fed sour mash bourbon has its medicinal value, yet my friend did not receive his wish.   Maybe medicinal bourbon is legal in Kentucky.

Today was also spouse visit time.  The men brought their reading material as their partners were hooked up.  It is self-evident that cancer should only be the illness of the retired.  Company in the form of a spouse is greatly appreciated during the hours of treatment, but working partners, or spouses with children make it difficult for them to sit and relax during the full treatment.  Actually, the spouse, when visiting,  functions as chair coordinator, water procurer, pillow fluffer, magazine selector, cheerleader, monitor and listener.

Each family handles the time in the clinic differently.  One preppy looking gentleman spent most of his time on the cell phone.  Another mapped out the summer trip with papers and maps all over his lap.  A third watched DVD’s on a small player.  One lady sat in the chair with no book, music machine, computer or magazine the whole time, but she had three visitors.  Most sleep and the lady next to me today snored. Then it was my turn to doze off.

After the alarm clock, in the form of a beeper on the Flo-Gard 6201 Volumetric Infusion Pump went off I was ready for the next bag of drugs with a little cat nap under my belt.

Relatively easy day today, other than a sore throat during the chemo injection, and an achy body at night.   In at 8 am and out at 1:00 PM.   First day, the big day, round three completed.

An aside, that comes with a sigh:  One negative comment of two words:   Cell Phones – not necessary to explain, I am sure.

Back to Week 9