The Long Walk

After a week off, you would think I would ready. But I'm not. I want another week off. I want this to be completely done. I know I should be thankful. Thankful for my insurance. Thankful for the care I receive. Thankful that compared to other options, this one isn't so bad.

After a long day at the office, a long, slow drive home, the last thing I want is to drag myself to the lab for a blood test. If anyone asks, I act as though is no big deal, because that's the truth. It's not a big deal. It's one little prick with a needle. It doesn't hurt, it just feels uncomfortable as the vials are changed. It's just a quick two minutes and it's over and done. So why do I hate it so much?

Because I know it's just the beginning? The precursor to tomorrow when the chemo flows through my port into my blood. Where fatigue will later set in and possibly nausea. Yes, my body is "tolerating" it well, but the truth is, sometimes my brain doesn't. Tonight was one of those nights.

Tonight, it was a long walk to the lab.

This is My Life

Day 3 of cycle three was supposed to be a three hour infusion. On top of my 1/2 hour drip of Gemzar, it was time for Aredia which is another 2/12 hours on the chair. No biggie, I had a boatload of work, free internet and my laptop by my side. I was not expecting to have to have a blood transfusion. Two bags of blood = 3-1/2 more hours in the infusion chair.

As it happens every time when I go to the medical center. I go through a series of highs and lows. Thankful I'm still here. Thankful I can still walk. Thankful for my insurance. Thankful for the blessing I've had since this all begun.

In disbelief still that this has happened. That I can't walk the way I used to. That I think about living and dying every day. That my life has come to this, a series of blood tests, doctor appointments, infusions. That I am living with cancer.

Even after 4 years, sometimes it's hard to comprehend that this is my life.

The Second Time Around

This time around, it's easier. The new (and much improved) infusion center helps. a. lot.

Last time, on average I got into the infusion chair at least an hour to an hour and a half after my scheduled appointment. This time, there hasn't been an appointment where I haven't been in my chair either early or within 5 minutes of my appointment.

Last time, the infusion center was located on the corner of the third floor, cramped and far away from the parking lot. This time the infusion center is on the first floor, one of the areas closest to the parking lot. And it's so pretty.

Last time, the infusion chairs were comfortable, but old and almost impossible to recline on your own. This time the infusion chairs are comfortable, but have remotes to make it easy to recline at the touch of a button.

Last time, I was frightened, angry, scared. This time, I'm thankful, friendly, at-ease.

Oh, and this time around there is free Wifi.

And So It Begins Again

My first day back in the infusion center for a new round of chemo. What I remember about the first time...

1. Being so frightening and hating every moment of the whole experience
2. Feeling like I had to be strong so mom would know that I was okay
3. Realizing that it's the nurses who really know the score and it helps to have them as a friend (after all they're the ones with the needles)
4. Fearing the uncertainty, would I get sick, when would I lose my hair, was this going to be worth it

I went home and cried, feeling depressed for the whole week. I did not want to go back and it wasn't until I realized that I didn't have to go back if I really didn't want, that I began to feel better. I was in more control than I thought I was. I came to realize that it's one of the things I hate the most about the whole ordeal, feeling the loss of control.

This time around, I didn't have that deer in the headlights look. Even though I didn't know if I was going to have an adverse reaction, the fear was gone. Yes, I may feel fatigue, but if I'm lucky I'll be able to embrace the life I have and live it with hope, love and joy. That's what I plan to do. 

The chemo had a strange sensation as it flowed into my veins. The nurse had warned me that Gemzar could burn and that we may need to slow the drip down and pump more saline into me at the same time. At first everything was okay, but after about 10 minutes, I ended up asking her to slow the drip down. While it was never painful, it was just an unpleasant feeling. 

I'm so thankful that I had the presence of mind to ask my doctor about getting a port. It's getting harder and harder for the nurses to find a good vein and with chemo it's imperative that there is a good stick so the chemical doesn't leak out. 

I find it interesting to watch other patients at the infusion center. Some come alone like me, some have a relative or friend at their side, some are obviously tired and weak, some seem to have more energy, some have that deer in the headlight look (newbies), some obviously know the drill. Most are positive, most have hope and I see a lot of beauty in them. I often silently pray for the ones in my proximity as I know that prayer helps so much. I wish I could take more pictures there, but I don't want to intrude or make others feel uncomfortable.

Afterwards, Brie and I went to Starbucks and came home to start putting Christmas away. There is a part of me sad to see it go and another part happy to leave the clutter.