#9 - First 100 Patients Go Home With a Free Bobblehead

I am told that I survived yesterday.  I was skeptical at first.

We had a pretty early start yesterday morning.  I received a call on Friday night asking me to arrive an hour earlier than scheduled to get a quick chest X-ray before we started chemo.  They wanted to double check the chemo port to make sure the tubes were tubing, and the ports were porting to the right vein.  After being sent on a self guided tour of the ½ mile long skywalk by Officer Friendly at the main entrance, we were redirected by security to go back to the correct location at the main entrance.  Apparently, Angie appeared sick enough that we caught a golf cart for patients to be shuttled back and forth, and made it to the diagnostics area in plenty of time.   The chest X-ray, from waiting room to exit was all of 3 minutes max and we were off to chemo.

After a small fuss around with the chemo port (due to some swelling) the nurses used an inch long needle that resembled a modified fish hook to pop through my skin and access my port.  I could instantly identify with the Upper Kenai Reds that I had “innocently snagged” in Alaska. I didn’t do as much fighting as the Reds did (Maybe one or two flops).  The port turned out to be great.  I couldn’t feel anything and it freed up both of my arms.

After getting hooked up I was good to go.  We got started about 9:00.  The nurse started us off by hanging all the bags of meds above the IV cart and taking her time to tell us the order in which they would be pushed.  The only one I focused on was Adriamycin. Who wouldn’t be focused on the only bag with colored meds and a nick name that associated it with Death, the Devil, and a Dragon?  It basically has street cred, & they saved it for last. In a way, I suppose it gave me something to look forward to.

The basic scenario:

• The nurse would tell me which drug she was dripping and how long it would take. (in hours)
•  I would acknowledge that I could decipher her heavy accent from somewhere abroad, and that her pronunciation of medical drugs was impeccable.
• We would both smile at each other in a moment of awkwardness
• Doze for a while, 
• Urinate for a while
• Urinate again,
• Finish the drip (medical IV drip)
• Nurse would return and again tell me that she was now starting something else.
•  Rinse and Repeat (6X)

"Peace, I am a loser" hybrid hand sign

It was pretty uneventful with the exception of a few reactions that we had to stop treatments for.  I started to get itchy ears and throat so they loaded me with some Benadryl and gave me a 30 minute timeout for being a bad patient.  I also experienced some huge temperature swings.  At one point I dropped the sheets, tore off my socks and was pretty convinced that the only thing that was going to cool me down was to lay on the floor, which my nurse wife would not allow.  I didn’t realize how bad it was until I asked the nurse if we could drop the temperature.  She paused and looked at me like I was joking and told me the room couldn’t be turned down any further.  I turned and looked at Angie, who was out of my view from the bed.  She had the hood from her hoodie pulled on, my extra long sleeve T and a blanket.   It wasn’t 30 minutes before I was freezing and asking to warm up the room.  I was given 3 heated blankets which seemed to help until I started to overheat again and reverse the thermal roller coaster.

After we finished off the Dragon, we packed up our stuff and walked out @ 5:30.  The only noticeable side effects were that I felt like a bobble head, and my brain was in slow motion.  For example, when I finally made it home and tucked into bed,  I watched one of the Spanish channels for 15 minutes or so before I realized I couldn’t understand what they were saying.  The Spanish version of "Cody Banks Secret Agent" is just as mesmerizing as the English version.

A few hours later I was feeling terrible, Gracie was struggling with a fever and the house was in disarray.
People in our lives are not there by coincidence. We are blessed with our circle of friends . That was evident as our friends came to the rescue.  Although miserable, I loved to hear the voices and the noises of those special families in our home.

********** Other Lessons Learned****************

•  It is evident that Angie has not driven a manual vehicle on a regular basis for some time.  It would appear that the 4 cylinder Mazdaratti 3 is more power than she can handle.  The bobble head side effect was evident on the drive home.  Please don’t tell her that I said this. 
•  Lemon flavor drink mix and saltine crackers of all things,  do not sit well on a chemo stomach.  The synergies are near nuclear.
• Confirmed:  My wife and kids are still the most important things on the planet.