Chemo No Fooling

My friend and I chat as we head down the hall toward the infusion center. This is new for her, familiar for me. The check in, the vitals, following the nurse down the hall to a bay, selecting a pod (near the window, thank God) and turning the chair to see what can be glimpsed of the real world on beyond the beeping IV machines.

We settle in. It is wonderful to have someone there to chat with. I try to explain what is going on as I get my premeds and get hooked up. The nurse chimes in with slight corrections and further clarifications as needed. So the Rituxan drip begins. 50, then 100, then 150. For each bump up in speed of infusion, I open one of the presents that the kindly church mice have sent along. This month we have a Dr. Seuss theme. Horton sent his friend Morton, a cheerful gray stuffed elephant, to oversee the proceedings. We begin with the book Horton Hears a Who. We giggle over a squishy caterpillar whose tail lights up with flashing colored charm when smacked. Sort of the way I sometimes feel with the chemo stuff. We smack our lips as we eat the Godiva chocolate pearls, sharing them with the nurse.

At 200 I experience some reaction symptoms, and we stop the drip for a bit while I ingest more medication. I am now beginning to feel a bit woozy. Good thing we already had our lunch. My eyes want to close, my mind wants to drift off. Talking is more challenging. My friend lets me drift and opens the book she brought. Chemo will take longer today. I have to stop twice, then back down on the rate.

By the time I am done it is after 5pm. I worry that she needs to be home for her family, but she is OK with the time frame. Already I can tell it is going to be a bumpy night. I hate to take any more medication after the wads of stuff I have already downed, but I suspect it will be a Tylenol night. I ache everywhere.

The bright spot awaiting me is that dinner was delivered already, and my friend's husband also sent along a loaf of his wonderful home made bread and some peanut butter cookies. The boys and I will fare well with food, blessed immeasurably by the thoughtful care of our church family. How blessed I am!

Heat. Munch. Thank God. Sleep. The evening's agenda.