I'm being a little dramatic (if you can imagine such a thing). Kristen, at Dr. Evans office, is simply the most caring, wonderful, fun loving person you could ever meet. She would never give anyone an F. But I did f-up from the first moment.
I walked into the Chemo Room in the back of the office. I don't know if that's what Dr. Evans officially calls it, but let's be honest - that's what happens there, so I'll call it the Chemo Room. It's bright, with lots of windows and lots of barcaloungers - right up Chris' alley. There's pretty wall paper with dainty purple flowers, tasteful sea foam green valences on the windows. You can tell this is a woman's office. She took the time to soften the institutional part of the Chemo Room. It's a place you can feel comfortable.
The first thing I did was make eye contact with some of the women who were already hooked up to their chemo polls and said hello ... then felt compelled to say, "I'm new here." I'm sure these stoic patients knew that, most of them have been there for weeks and haven't seen me yet. They know a newbie when they see one! A few introduced themselves to me. A few asked "if I was that girl from television." It seems like a kind group.
Marcia and I nestled into two of the chairs. Kristen comes over all smiles. She and I were people who really enjoyed each other's company in 2008 and 2009. I'm sad to have to come back for cancer treatment, but getting to spend time with her again is one of those silver linings. Plus Mimi and Beverly, also office staff, are always wonderful too. You have to have special personality to work in a cancer office and these women shine.
(Side note: Kristen and I talked pedicures in 2009. She wanted a quick place to go on her lunch break. I suggested a spot next to WGAL. If I remember correctly, she went. And then at some point, Googled the business on the state licensing website and found out it had all sorts of health violations. Perhaps that was a bad suggestion. Albeit, on Monday, before my port surgery, I treated myself to a pedi at that exact spot. Here's how my tooties turned out:
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| Have the blues? |
The color is hideous, I know. But I picked it out myself. I was feeling blue every morning I woke up. By midday, the depression has been subsiding. But I thought it's okay to feel blue sometimes. So I painted my toes blue. But they are the furthest part of my body from my head. So my toes can take care of being blue, leaving plenty of room for my head to feel strong. Plus, I hope i didn't pick up an infection at the nail place!)
So ... Kristen says, "How was the numbing cream?" I said, "I have it right here," (pulling it out of the depths of my pocketbook, proud I even remembered it.) "I didn't put it on yet." So Kristen chuckles, holds up the front of the box toward me and reads me what it says in gosh darn black and white: "Apply cream to site 30 minutes BEFORE chemotherapy." Damn it. I was supposed to read the box too?!? They are certainly asking a lot here. So we had to wait 30 minutes for me to fix the first fuck up. No biggie. They can't start my chemo without me ... we just started it a little tardy. Chalking that up to first day jitters.
Kristen accessed the port like the Champion of Needles she is. I didn't feel a thing - total piece of cake. They drip in a bunch of stuff - some Benadryl, an anti-nausea medicine, some fluids, then two different bags of Chemo. Today was Etoposide and Dactinomycin. Then I got a shot of Methotrexate in the ample chub of my rear end.
For those of you who remember last time, I was given only Methotrexate. First once an week, then daily. I doesn't cause you to lose your hair and I, then too, had it administered IM - intra muscular - a.k.a. in the ass cheek. By doing the Methotrexate by shot 4 times a week this time around, it cuts out that 12 hour infusion. Not a bad trade if you ask me.
Everything was good. I felt a little woozy. I didn't feel too sad, or overwhelmed. I did get these twitches in my hands and forearms - like Restless Leg Syndrome but of a different limb. Kristen says that happens because of one of the drugs. I'll take a Vicoden tomorrow before chemo and that should subside. Loving the Vicoden. It's great that Chris is coming with me tomorrow because he'll have to drive my loopy ass there. I aim to be drugged up and numbed up, using the cream as directed.
Tomorrow, I'm going to get an A.
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