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| Mr. Bunny, meet Mr. Squirrel |
I seem to be the only person who ever brings a laptop to these sessions. Many however have their headphones on, books and magazines are always present, and there are caregivers for almost all the patients. Almost all patients, as some are solitary. Sometimes it's just as hard on the caregiver to be there, the support role now usurped by the professionals. For some it is hard to watch a loved one undergo the process. Fortunately for me I am not alone. Sometimes we talk to the other patients, encourage each other, put on our brave face and confidently face down our fears. We are all veteran of the Cancer Wars. I have always said that Cancer may kill me, but it won't beat me. I believe in those words as I believe in myself.
Returning to the laptop, my virtual escape from the chair is aided by my trusty Acer Aspire One Netbook. Free WiFI for us patients allows me to write in my journal, to keep in contact with my family, friends and coworkers, heck I even wrote some shell and Awk scripts for a friend of mine who wanted to move specific files from one directory to another on his computer. He was most amazed I was writing them from the chemo chair. Programming from the chemo chair, with an IV hooked up to my port. Plus I get free coffee and cookies if I want, but alas, during these times I have absolutely no desire for either.
It seems that the longer I sit in the chair the less my attention span can be maintained. Of course my nemesis returns each time I have chemo, and for that I have the two shots to take care of the nausea symptoms. My chemo treatment is more or less routine this time, however I now receive my first session of Avastin, the magic potion to inhibit new growth of blood vessels, so tumours can't find a source of nutrients. I was quite eager for this, due to the word 'AVAST' in Avasatin. AVAST of course is Pirate Talk! Arrrrgghhh Matey, it's now time for Bad Pirate Puns.
Prior to this session I had constructed and pre-tested some of my Pirate Puns on a few unsuspecting individuals. I was actually considering finding a suitable hat, eye patch and parrot, but decorum and common sense won out. Fortunately the Pirate Puns were more-or-less well received:
"I'm a land-locked pirate, the closest I get to the High Seas is me Orange Juice!"
"Avastin! That's Pirate Chemo, delivered by me nurse with the wooden leg, Peg!"
"We're Practical Joke Pirates! Prepare to walk the prank!"
"I get all me Pirate boots and shoes from Davey Jones Foot Locker....arrrgghh!"
When the opportunity presents itself to find humour in the horrible, you go for the humour ever time. Besides, I'm a glutton for PUNishment...
My session was relatively uneventful, save for the spate of bad puns. I tried to indulge in the Hospital-provided lunch (chicken noodle soup and chicken salad sandwich, peaches for dessert) but my appetite was simply not there. Tired as I usually am after these sessions, I basically get home and sleep. It seems to me that my past two chemo sessions have taken more of a toll on me than the first round, whether it is due to the surgery, the extended time between sessions or simply the weather and my own mood, I simply don't know.
My mood the day after chemo wasn't too bad. I was up fairly early and content to do my morning routine of email and surfing, when suddenly my iternet at home vanished. Terry the Techie now took over. I checked out my DSL modem, my router, my wifi...no sync. I contacted my ISP, and I tried a different modem. Still no sync. A technician was sent over and he confirmed it: No Sync! So now Bell is involved and a day later after all their tests they managed to actually unhook my telephone line altogether! So now I had no DSL sync and no voice. My ISP was quick to work through the problem with Bell, and several hours before I was due to have my 5FU pump removed, a Bell truck rolled up to my house.
Inside wiring was ok, but the wiring on the pole was bad. Squirrels eating the insulation on the lines is the official reason. However there was a matter of the voice being left unconnected at the remote site after testing my line for DSL sync. However once the new cable was strung from the telephone pole to my house, the magic of the internet returned, and with it, my telephone circuits. One of the first things I did was to check my voice mail box...which had a message from Bell repair to call them..
So for a day and a half I was disconnected from the rest of the world, and I didn't mind it a bit! All that activity in problem-solving mode did not involve anything to do with the Cancer, and I felt like I was doing something useful. That Friday was very busy, for earlier that morning I had a service tech come over to the house to perform routine maintenance on my old, old furnace. My neighbors Carbon Monoxide detector had recently gone off and they needed to get their furnace replaced. I don't even own a CO detector - yet. As soon as I can get out of the house I'm heading to Canadian Tire to pick one up, stat! Oh, and my 30 year old furnace was tested and is fine, no CO leaks, and while not efficient as modern ones, still heats the house up nice and cozy.
As the day flew by, all the excitement from the comings and goings of the various technicians was wearing on me. I was tired, but my 5FU pump still was scheduled for removal at 2PM that afternoon. No nap for me. Off to the clinic to have the pump removed. This time it was a breeze, no problem with the blood return, a record time of 15 minutes from start to finish. Finally I could have my well-deserved nap later that afternoon. And I did!
Six hours after the pump was removed and an hour long nap seemed to provide me with a bit of energy. I went for a walk, just to the local mail box. A trip that would routinely take me 10 minutes there and back. In the past I have commented that a recurring side-effect of the chemo medication are sore chest and arms after exertion. I know from first-hand experience that any prolonged physical exertion like walking causes me chest pain. Not the stabbing I'm-having-a-heart-attack, nor the heart-pounding likes it's going to explode, no this is like a compression on the heart. It's sore, and my arms around my biceps get sore as well. So for me to walk that distance and not expect repercussions was just plain stupid. And I paid for that stupidity. The walk there was not too bad, it was the return trip. Walk a few steps, feel sore, feel sick, stop, crouch down, wait. Repeat. I shuffled more than I walked. My chest was sore, I was frustrated with my body's inability to cope and angry at myself for being so stupid. A mere six hours had passed since the pump was removed from me, I know I need at least 24 to feel 'better'.
The walk continued, more shuffling, more rest stops. Ten minutes turned to 20, then almost 30, for a trip that would normally take me five minutes. I wanted to get sick. I wanted nothing more than to lie down on someones yard and rest. It was dark and cold out and stupid me was clutching at my chest, shuffling along, randomly crouching down to rest. If someone was watching me they would think that I was having an early start on the Christmas Cheer. I made it home and as I got inside the house, I just sat on the basement steps for minutes trying not to cry from the pain. The rest of the evening was extremely low-key to say the least. I had yet another nap, only waking up to take my last chemo pill of the 3-day regimen.
What had started off as a pleasant morning three days prior almost ended in disaster. My ego overrode my experience, and I paid the price for it in pain. This ninth session will be remembered more for what I should NOT have done, in this case it would be to not exert myself until I am fully recovered from my session. The journey will continue, but perhaps at a more sedate pace.
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