Seems like such a simple word. Only a couple syllables long. Then you might notice: weeeell it has the word therapy thrown in there, it can't be thaaat hard, and it's pretty easy to say, oh and it even has a short nickname so if you are feeling tired that day and don't want to use the whole word you can just say....chemo. Easy right?
When I think of chemo (and I force myself to) what runs through MY head is one singular thing, not a plethora of things. Just one thing. And for a few minutes you get the idea that indeed sounds simple enough.
What a simple, couple syllables, sounding like only one thing you have to do DECEPTIVE word. It's a charade of all charades.
To even get to the chemo part, which I refer to as "the cocktail" because I need to have myself walk down some path of disillusion in all this stark harsh lighting soon you gonna be a baldie take your shirt off constantly reality, there is lots of prep work to do before. Besides the visits with my oncologist to be sure I'm strong and healed up I visit a cardiologist for an echocardiogram. It's to get a baseline of my heart. Then back to the hospital for an IV port placement procedure. Member? Going in right next to my ticker.
When I think of chemo (and I force myself to) what runs through MY head is one singular thing, not a plethora of things. Just one thing. And for a few minutes you get the idea that indeed sounds simple enough.
What a simple, couple syllables, sounding like only one thing you have to do DECEPTIVE word. It's a charade of all charades.
To even get to the chemo part, which I refer to as "the cocktail" because I need to have myself walk down some path of disillusion in all this stark harsh lighting soon you gonna be a baldie take your shirt off constantly reality, there is lots of prep work to do before. Besides the visits with my oncologist to be sure I'm strong and healed up I visit a cardiologist for an echocardiogram. It's to get a baseline of my heart. Then back to the hospital for an IV port placement procedure. Member? Going in right next to my ticker.
Because the skin getting healed up, closed up part seems to be moving along from what recent doctor visits tell me it is important to keep it moving. Next??!! I call out in the imaginary waiting room of all the pending items that runs through my head. Next was the visit to my cardiologist for the echocardiogram. Done. I check that off on my imaginary clipboard I'm holding while I yell out again: neeexxxttt.
Ah yes, port placement. What that really means is this. I go back to the hospital (please know I constantly refrain from saying scene of the crime as I AM prone to use dramatic words) and get to stay for half a day. I'm put to sleep while they open me up a teeny bit and place something up on the left side of my chest for my chemo treatments. The chemo I will get won't be administered by IV in the arm. Couple of reasons: I have to go too many times. When you have lymph nodes removed you don't want that arm getting poked/prodded too much to avoid lymphodema. That ain't fun. It's permanent. So no blood pressure, taking blood and def no IV on the left side. Like forever. The chemo cocktail I'll get can cause tissue damage if the "special cocktail" drips out of my IV. See? I pay attention sometimes. So they use a port. My port procedure was put off and off due to skin not being closed all the way. All clear and ready for take off time. It's happening Tuesday the 21st. Neeeexxt?
The next "prep yoself before you wreck yoself" item is you go back to school. In a way. Except in the school I went to while growing up when they told me things like Lincoln freed the slaves or Washington was the first president it didn't make my mouth drop open in surprise and then flies gathered around.
Because when you are gonna get the chemo cocktail you need to attend what they call "chemo class" and it's there they drop some info on you that has your head spinning, your mouth opens and you start to drool which makes them stop teaching class occasionally and say "what, you're making that face again, what's the matter"? I didn't realize I was doing that face so I just said "oh me? Neh, just ignore me. New stitches and am trying not to curse out loud due to nerve pain so I can listen". Which was true at the time but that's not why I was making a confused or overwhelmed face.
A friend of mine who calls every week or so to get the live updates says "what's that mean" when I tell her I have to go to chemo class. I tell her "oh, I don't know. Maybe they are gonna tell me how to look good throwing up or something." She says "Oh wow really?" NOooooooo-that's my 14 year old immature brain processing it and then spitting it out in a dry monotone voice. Like hell if I know what they are going to tell me. Well I sure do now.
While there was talk about throwing up, how to feel good and look your best there was also A TON of other information. Overwhelming important stuff. And lots and lots of prescriptions with simple to read (allegedly) instructions on what to take when. Boy was I glad 3 other people were there listening too. At least I think they were listening.
Oh my, Stan! Stan! Shes talking about the chemo again and she always says really bad cuss words when she does- I imagine you say to yourself in that high sweet voice while clutching your hand to your chest.
Oh calm down now, no one is going to drop eff bombs, however I do reserve the right. Rough road ahead I'm told. Besides the shocking reason I needed the port and the shocking disappointing amount of other drugs I have to take both before and after each chemotherapy infusion there are just lots of things that can happen.
The next "prep yoself before you wreck yoself" item is you go back to school. In a way. Except in the school I went to while growing up when they told me things like Lincoln freed the slaves or Washington was the first president it didn't make my mouth drop open in surprise and then flies gathered around.
Because when you are gonna get the chemo cocktail you need to attend what they call "chemo class" and it's there they drop some info on you that has your head spinning, your mouth opens and you start to drool which makes them stop teaching class occasionally and say "what, you're making that face again, what's the matter"? I didn't realize I was doing that face so I just said "oh me? Neh, just ignore me. New stitches and am trying not to curse out loud due to nerve pain so I can listen". Which was true at the time but that's not why I was making a confused or overwhelmed face.
A friend of mine who calls every week or so to get the live updates says "what's that mean" when I tell her I have to go to chemo class. I tell her "oh, I don't know. Maybe they are gonna tell me how to look good throwing up or something." She says "Oh wow really?" NOooooooo-that's my 14 year old immature brain processing it and then spitting it out in a dry monotone voice. Like hell if I know what they are going to tell me. Well I sure do now.
While there was talk about throwing up, how to feel good and look your best there was also A TON of other information. Overwhelming important stuff. And lots and lots of prescriptions with simple to read (allegedly) instructions on what to take when. Boy was I glad 3 other people were there listening too. At least I think they were listening.
Oh my, Stan! Stan! Shes talking about the chemo again and she always says really bad cuss words when she does- I imagine you say to yourself in that high sweet voice while clutching your hand to your chest.
Oh calm down now, no one is going to drop eff bombs, however I do reserve the right. Rough road ahead I'm told. Besides the shocking reason I needed the port and the shocking disappointing amount of other drugs I have to take both before and after each chemotherapy infusion there are just lots of things that can happen.
Oncologist Nurse: Are you easily prone to nausea?
Me (stammering): Uh, does dry heaving if Im forced to go to Walmart or gagging if I see someone wear jean capris with socks AND sneakers count? Seriously, no one should try that look ever. I'm doing you a favor telling you that.
Oncologist nurse: So basically you're saying you are easily prone to nausea.
Me in quiet voice: Um yea, yup, basically (I don't want to come off as too smart in these meetings, they might expect me to help out or something).
Oncologist nurse: Ok, here's what you need to do.
And then she lists like 25 things. I only stopped her a few times to ask if this was all written down somewhere. She says it sure is, don't worry we will repeat it and are here to help you throughout. She sends me home with a thick folder.
Neeexxxttt? These days in between my doctor visits, I'm doing my after school homework and studying. Only it feels like some sort of bizarre detention from a class that has strange titles. How to get rid of constipation. Here a handy recipe for that. What to do if you throw up more than twice. How to deal with the metallic taste you will have. How to prevent or treat mouth sores (no lie folks). Don't buy that stuff that makes your eyelashes grow during chemo, wait until after. Note: that was when I found out I was going to lose my eyelashes, maybe my eyebrows and THAT caused my mouth to drop open in shock. I'm sure I made "that face".
Oh yes, there's homework and information for the people around me too. How to wash your hands to prevent the spread of infections. Don't bring smelly things around the "chemo patient." (I like those topics.) Be sure the chemo patient doesn't have more than two loose bowel movements without calling the office. Really. I'll be talking about that?? Out loud. With someone? I def want those conversations happening. How about don't let the chemo person sleep all day without drinking water or they could wind up in the hospital with severe dehydration.
I have a strong feeling and suspect I wasn't the only one in the room with a shocked open mouth and flies gathering round.
