Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Well, f#$%.
My day lasted considerably longer than I wanted to and took a radically unexpected turn. I got to the Radiology department at 9:06 a.m. (only six minutes late), and got prepared to have a port installed to make the monthly infusions more bearable. I had anxiety about the port placement. Where would it be? Would it be very painful and awful? What would it be like afterwards? I was assured that the procedure would go smoothly, that people tend to not suffer much discomfort during the placement, and that I could discuss where it would be placed with the person doing the procedure and things would turn out ok.
I actually didn't feel much of the procedure at all. After giving me the sedative, the people in the room kept asking me questions about where I lived, and did I know about Holiday Market, and was I near the new Ikea? I remember that the local anesthetic shots stung quite a bit, and then I don't remember anything else until being wheeled into recovery. This was several hours later than expected, since there were two people who needed emergency procedures before I was even able to go in. So my mom had lunch while I was out of commission, and I had to get dressed and get to my other appointments. There was a wheelchair for me. I got in the wheelchair (which got us special privileges at Wendy's in the hospital) and had my first food of the day: nuggets and a small frosty. I looked at the tiny cup dolefully.
"If I had known the small was going to be that small, I would have opted for a medium."
Then I went to make my next appointment; the infusion that was scheduled at 2. I had totally missed my appointment with Dr. Hayes, but could make this one. As I was getting weighed in, I heard people in the waiting area calling a name I'm hardly used to: "Janet Elkins? Janet ELkins! Janet ELKINS?" I identified myself, and it turns out it was highly important to see the doctor before going in to have the infusion. There was a delay there as the four people at the check in desk neatly failed to help the line of people waiting and depended instead on the trainee being helped to do it. Every conversational remark she made to somebody ahead of me I begrudged. How dare she take time to trade pleasantries when there are people waiting? Grrrr...
Finally I got in to the docor's office and waited. And waited. And waited. My mom called Brian, who then took over the job of waiting with me. And we waited. Finally, Lita came in and had news to report which made it clear why seeing the doctor before going in to the infusion would be important. "While it certainly did at first," she said, "it looks like for whatever reason the hormonal treatment isn't working anymore." We would have to switch to another therapy. So today I started chemotherapy for the second time, which I have already prayed in this blog I would never have to do again, god willing.
God is apparently not very willing.
I finally got home at 10 p.m. Brian is eating ice cream. I'm typing in my blog with a very bruised arm covered with green...antiseptic, I think it is. My face is puffy from something. A side effect of the infusions? I didn't start weeping until after my left eye was already partially swollen shut so I don't know what's going on there.
My day was very long and this was an unpleasant surprise.
I actually didn't feel much of the procedure at all. After giving me the sedative, the people in the room kept asking me questions about where I lived, and did I know about Holiday Market, and was I near the new Ikea? I remember that the local anesthetic shots stung quite a bit, and then I don't remember anything else until being wheeled into recovery. This was several hours later than expected, since there were two people who needed emergency procedures before I was even able to go in. So my mom had lunch while I was out of commission, and I had to get dressed and get to my other appointments. There was a wheelchair for me. I got in the wheelchair (which got us special privileges at Wendy's in the hospital) and had my first food of the day: nuggets and a small frosty. I looked at the tiny cup dolefully.
"If I had known the small was going to be that small, I would have opted for a medium."
Then I went to make my next appointment; the infusion that was scheduled at 2. I had totally missed my appointment with Dr. Hayes, but could make this one. As I was getting weighed in, I heard people in the waiting area calling a name I'm hardly used to: "Janet Elkins? Janet ELkins! Janet ELKINS?" I identified myself, and it turns out it was highly important to see the doctor before going in to have the infusion. There was a delay there as the four people at the check in desk neatly failed to help the line of people waiting and depended instead on the trainee being helped to do it. Every conversational remark she made to somebody ahead of me I begrudged. How dare she take time to trade pleasantries when there are people waiting? Grrrr...
Finally I got in to the docor's office and waited. And waited. And waited. My mom called Brian, who then took over the job of waiting with me. And we waited. Finally, Lita came in and had news to report which made it clear why seeing the doctor before going in to the infusion would be important. "While it certainly did at first," she said, "it looks like for whatever reason the hormonal treatment isn't working anymore." We would have to switch to another therapy. So today I started chemotherapy for the second time, which I have already prayed in this blog I would never have to do again, god willing.
God is apparently not very willing.
I finally got home at 10 p.m. Brian is eating ice cream. I'm typing in my blog with a very bruised arm covered with green...antiseptic, I think it is. My face is puffy from something. A side effect of the infusions? I didn't start weeping until after my left eye was already partially swollen shut so I don't know what's going on there.
My day was very long and this was an unpleasant surprise.
Labels: Brian, chemo, Dr. Hayes, hormone therapy, infusion, Lita, mom, port, surgery
Comments:
f#$% is right. This isn't even REMOTELY fair.
But you know what, you'll get through it just like everything else. Promise. :D
But you know what, you'll get through it just like everything else. Promise. :D
# posted by 
: 8:49 PM
: 8:49 PM
I just stumbled upon your blog looking up info. for my sister-in-law who has breast cancer. Your blog is so moving I had to write. You sound like an incredible person - sensitive, brave, funny, articulate, and warm - and I am grateful for the opportunity to read your thoughts. My prayers are with you . . . Susan
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# posted by : 7:27 PM
: 7:27 PM 
