PROJECT: 05-DJC:174.9

This is Deirdre's Breast Cancer Diary. I try to update this blog at least every evening. This is an easy way for me to keep a journal of the experience, and at the same time, I can keep my friends and family up-to-date on what is going on. I find it is not so bad to have cancer, but it is awfully depressing to talk about it. I hope you laugh as you read along. You can find the beginning in February the archives. Thanks again for reading :o)

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Chemo #7 - check!

I do the same thing every morning before chemo: I wake up, take my shower, get dressed, and then when I am ready I go to Mark and clench my teeth and put on my "game face" (my most intimidating "let's go get 'em" look), clenching and pumping my fists and growl' "Let's go get some pain! Argh!" It's the only way to do it. Sort of like my way of getting into a pool for the first time: yeah, it's gonna be cold at first, but you gotta do it, SO GET IN! Likewise for having your hair come out: it's gonna happen, so you can either be victim and let it happen TO you, or you can go get it! SHAVE IT OFF!
I cried the day and night before, but you wouldn't be able to tell that from the attitude this morning. That's how I deal with it.
Today I feel a little more fatigue than I normally do...but just a shade. And I am talking about normal meaning a day before I had cancer. Damn, those pre-meds are good stuff!
I am sure to be awake long after I want to be sleeping tonight, though. Damn, those pre-meds are good stuff!
Here's something you probably didn't know about chemotherapy: if you have to go to the restroom during chemotherapy, you gotta take your pole with you .
Jennifer, one of the nurses, refers to the IV Pole as "your dancing partner". Cute, huh? Is she seeing graceful movement with the poles? Crazy. Couldn't be. Maybe she is trying that reverse psychology stuff.
Accomplishing a trip to the potty while attached to your IV Pole is a difficult task in itself. Then, take into consideration the three nurses, the other five folks getting infusions and their poles, the visitors/caretakers/companions/boyfriends/husbands/garbage guy who takes away all the used needles and other toxic waste, and the highly toxic chemicals of mass destruction, and we are talking about something akin to navigating a mine field. The whole infusion area I am talking about is about the size of two the shape of an L. Oh, I didn't mention the Barcaloungers that are in the recline position, of course. PLUS YOU GOTTA GO PEE! Let's just say it takes practice. I am getting pretty good at it. Hell, I spend at least four hours there starting from 8:00 am. They tell you to drink lots of fluid. Then they pump you full of liquid goo. Who wouldn't get practice with all of that? Well I had five practices today. I am getting good at it. Just think, I may have it down real tight by my next chemotherapy appointment. Which will be, of course, my LAST chemotherapy appointment.
I want to say those chemo nurses, Judy, Gwennie-Gwen-Gewn and Mary are the epitome of grace in the infusion room. They move through the battlefield with not only grace but poise and professionalism. They are cat-like in their agility as they get in and around to the patients. Always so courteous and cheerful and tender. They clearly enjoy their work. They make it a great place to be... well, if you gotta be there. Thank you, Ladies!
It really is God's work, to be one of the chemo nurses. They are so compassionate. They have made me feel so well cared for. They attend to us constantly. I am sure my file is studied prior to my arrival ...from beginning to end. They make sure they know all about me: what I have been through, what I am about to go through, how I am feeling about things, my concerns from my doctor's notes....everything. It is amazing to me that they do this not only for me but for everyone...I see it every time. I feel so special when I am there: they treat me that way. But, I see them treat everyone that way. I notice the faces of the others who get that special treatment, and I know they feel so special, too. Just think, they do this every day....they do this several times per day. I am only one. It is awesome. They are wonderful. Angels.
Okay, my least favorite part of chemotherapy (which you may know already): my shot of Neulasta. DANG, THAT HURTS!
My Pro-Time (therapy for my blood clot) is a little low (1.9) so I get another adjustment. I will go from 5 mg daily to 5 mg every day, but Mondays and Fridays I will take 6 mg. We'll see how that works.


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