New plan! Yes - last time I had chemo which was a disaster and I had to go home without finishing the whole course, we decided to use the big guns right up front and not wait for a reaction. Great idea. A little scary, but OK. Worth a try. I hate feeling like I am risking my throat closing up and breathing becoming a real issue. I have to admit, I have been dragging my feet though. I know what those big guns make me feel like, and I am none to hurried to go there.
I make Drew drive me in. He is reticent for sure. I should let the squirmer off the hook, but I am very sure I will be in no shape to drive myself home. I offer breakfast, and he finally drags himself down to the car. We arrive at 8 am. Everything is normal. Park in the garage, walk the hallway plank to the infusion center, check in, get a parking pass and a plastic ID bracelet, have your vitals taken, then be assigned to a pod. This time I am in pod A - and I get a window space. Yeah! I turn my chair to see out the window first thing - I won't be watching any TV and I would rather not stare at the other people in the pod. We are full up today.
My nurse is new to me, but I like her immediately. She is all business. There is a change in the approach that is coming soon for the infusion assignments. She tells me that each pod will deal with a different type of cancer, and the nurses assigned will be specialists in that kind of cancer. In this way they hope to learn better care and share information that will make the patients experience a better treatment. I like the idea. Today's nurse has come from the main floor where she deals with lymphoma mostly. She is very knowledgeable not just about the type of cancer, but she has read up on my case.
She spells out how we will start with the IV heavy pre meds and how we will space the Rituxan with the goal of having no reaction at all. She is not in any hurry to get me out in the designated 4 to 5 hours but says she will be there all day and is happy for me to be also if necessary. Drew makes a hasty exit to acquire breakfast while she accesses my port - she is done before two blinks and has already administered the first of the steroids before Drew returns with a strawberry cheese danish for me and a cinnamon roll for him. I am getting lots of IV fluids and waiting for the tylenol to take effect when we finish breakfast. Drew gracefully excuses himself on the pretext that he has a lot to do and promises to return with a Panera's lunch.
Good thing he leaves when he does. The nurse gives me the IV benedryl and pepcid and I turn a delicate woozy and am directly out of it. I try to read a Father Dowling mystery I have half heartedly worked through, but after reading the same sentence 3 times and still having no idea what it said, I give up. I open some gifts from my friends the church mice - they are so thoughtful and kind and have stayed with me through it all - I especially appreciate the chocolate aspirin! But soon I am snoozing. The nurse tucks me in with a warm blanket, tilts my chair back, starts the Rituxan and I am in lala land. I have definitely shifted into neutral.
I wake every half hour for blood pressure and temperature and to have the drip edged up another 50 drips per. Things are going well. No sign of reaction. The next time I wake, it is not because the nurse woke me. Why am I awake? Can it be? Yes, it is vague, but my feet are tingling. Just a wee bit. Not much. Hardly worth mentioning, but I know I must. When the nurse comes, I tell her. We agree that the best strategy is to hit me with one more big gun and prevent a little something from becoming major. I sigh. Yes, I get some Decadron now. And we go back down to 150. I make the decision to keep at 150 for a whole hour, and the nurse is fine with that. It will mean I will be there longer, but it is my decision and I am happy with it. Where else would I go anyway? Just home to recover.
After that, all goes well and by 4 pm I am home, drinking lots of water to continue flushing my system now that the IV is no longer helping with that. I half watch a movie and doze. Drew is off to his Intervarsity BBQ. Sugar is curled up in the other chair, snoring.Whew. I am glad that's over. I finally crawl into bed and drift into a fitful sleep. Done and done.
I make Drew drive me in. He is reticent for sure. I should let the squirmer off the hook, but I am very sure I will be in no shape to drive myself home. I offer breakfast, and he finally drags himself down to the car. We arrive at 8 am. Everything is normal. Park in the garage, walk the hallway plank to the infusion center, check in, get a parking pass and a plastic ID bracelet, have your vitals taken, then be assigned to a pod. This time I am in pod A - and I get a window space. Yeah! I turn my chair to see out the window first thing - I won't be watching any TV and I would rather not stare at the other people in the pod. We are full up today.
My nurse is new to me, but I like her immediately. She is all business. There is a change in the approach that is coming soon for the infusion assignments. She tells me that each pod will deal with a different type of cancer, and the nurses assigned will be specialists in that kind of cancer. In this way they hope to learn better care and share information that will make the patients experience a better treatment. I like the idea. Today's nurse has come from the main floor where she deals with lymphoma mostly. She is very knowledgeable not just about the type of cancer, but she has read up on my case.
She spells out how we will start with the IV heavy pre meds and how we will space the Rituxan with the goal of having no reaction at all. She is not in any hurry to get me out in the designated 4 to 5 hours but says she will be there all day and is happy for me to be also if necessary. Drew makes a hasty exit to acquire breakfast while she accesses my port - she is done before two blinks and has already administered the first of the steroids before Drew returns with a strawberry cheese danish for me and a cinnamon roll for him. I am getting lots of IV fluids and waiting for the tylenol to take effect when we finish breakfast. Drew gracefully excuses himself on the pretext that he has a lot to do and promises to return with a Panera's lunch.
Good thing he leaves when he does. The nurse gives me the IV benedryl and pepcid and I turn a delicate woozy and am directly out of it. I try to read a Father Dowling mystery I have half heartedly worked through, but after reading the same sentence 3 times and still having no idea what it said, I give up. I open some gifts from my friends the church mice - they are so thoughtful and kind and have stayed with me through it all - I especially appreciate the chocolate aspirin! But soon I am snoozing. The nurse tucks me in with a warm blanket, tilts my chair back, starts the Rituxan and I am in lala land. I have definitely shifted into neutral.
I wake every half hour for blood pressure and temperature and to have the drip edged up another 50 drips per. Things are going well. No sign of reaction. The next time I wake, it is not because the nurse woke me. Why am I awake? Can it be? Yes, it is vague, but my feet are tingling. Just a wee bit. Not much. Hardly worth mentioning, but I know I must. When the nurse comes, I tell her. We agree that the best strategy is to hit me with one more big gun and prevent a little something from becoming major. I sigh. Yes, I get some Decadron now. And we go back down to 150. I make the decision to keep at 150 for a whole hour, and the nurse is fine with that. It will mean I will be there longer, but it is my decision and I am happy with it. Where else would I go anyway? Just home to recover.
After that, all goes well and by 4 pm I am home, drinking lots of water to continue flushing my system now that the IV is no longer helping with that. I half watch a movie and doze. Drew is off to his Intervarsity BBQ. Sugar is curled up in the other chair, snoring.Whew. I am glad that's over. I finally crawl into bed and drift into a fitful sleep. Done and done.
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