Penultimate Treatment

#5 - only one more to go after this. I am still feeling a bit shaky and tired (after all, they moved up the date by two days - two full days of progress in recovering). First, a port draw. Last time that was tricky, and proved to be difficult again this time, requiring six men and a monkey plus every contortion under the sun, but we finally got blood to draw.

Then a chat with the doctor. Things look good. Blood work is fine. She is consulting with a number of specialists to get to the bottom of the iodine allergy question. My eyelashes and eyebrows are completely gone, but she reassures me they will grow back.

We discuss the next phase of treatment. After round 6, I get a four week hiatus with minimal testing.Then if deemed acceptable, a test run of the Bexxar and couple weeks of tracing the progress of the test run. Then the full blown Bexxar, followed by recovery and testing. We are talking September rest and then treatment well into October.

I am tired, not moving a lot at home. She decides I should see a physical therapist, see if we can keep the muscle tone up and not lose ground. I mention the trouble with port draws, and she prescribes a treatment to clear out any clediment that might be impeding progress.

She takes excellent care of me. For one thing she is extremely knowledgeable. For another, she not only listens carefully to my concerns, she takes them seriously and does something about them. I am getting great care.

On to the treatment. First the port treatment that takes a full hour. Thank God it works. Blood is now flowing easily and the chemo can proceed. With no Rituxan, the six hour stuff, I also don't have to take as many pretreatment drugs. Less groggy, but the chemo hits a bit harder. I am very wiped out afterwards.

But overall, a five hour day is way better than a nine hour day. Even though I am tired, its all over but the recovery weeks. Yeah! One more down, only one to go.

Dragging My Feet

Just the thought of having to go in for another chemo treatment is enough to send me diving into bed and pulling the covers up over my head. It's silly, but I just don't want to do it. Please don't make me.

OK, so the treatments haven't been all that intolerable. So I am tolerating them well. So I have already come through most of them and am still fine. So I already know mostly what to expect and how to manage any side effects.

I still plain old don't want to do it. I am balking. Procrastinating. Maybe I just need more time. A little break. Still, I am well cared for. I can do this. I just have to get geared up for it, I guess. Focus on other stuff and not think about it until I have to be there.

Sort of like when I was a kid and had to take yucky medicine. I remember once after I had my appendix removed and I was recovering at Gramma's house. My Great Aunt Lillian was a nurse, and she administered my medicine, which was bitter. I fussed about taking it, refusing to open my mouth.

She pinched my nose, forcing me to open my mouth and popped the whole spoonful of blicky stuff into my mouth. I had no choice but to swallow. Then she laughed at the face I made, but gave me something to wash the taste away. All she had to do after that was make a pinching motion with her fingers, and I cooperated.

It was enough incentive to remind me that I COULD take the medicine and that a little bitterness was not enough to keep me from getting the necessary help to get better.

So maybe I just need to find that little incentive, that little pinching motion, that little gesture to help me remember the importance of what I am doing. Maybe I just did.

But I still won't think about it until I have to!

Soccer Camp

Every August, Drew goes to soccer camp at Roberts Wesleyan College. Between my faculty discount and the generosity of his aunts, we manage the cost. He gets to jump back into the swing of things right before high school soccer training begins, gets to see how others are playing and how he measures up.

The coaches put him through his paces, but he never complains. He drags home the first day or so, his legs aching, his face sun burned, his water jugs drained. But he is happy. If I made him do all that running and exercising, he would have a fit. But this is different. He loves soccer.

I have been impressed by his perseverance in meeting the required disciplines and his commitment to being at all the events. I am pleased to see him growing into a fine young man with good sportsmanship, a level head, a sense of responsibility.

I thank his aunts for making this opportunity available to him, and playing an important role in his growing up. Besides, its not all hard work and tough stuff. He has a great time and lots of fun.