Round One - Us and Them

I had my first treatment today. It was raining and it was pretty depressing.
I felt uneasy and worried.

When I arrived at the clinic of course I had to fill out all the paperwork first. I felt so uncomfortable in there. I really didn't get good vibes from the place.

After all the paper work was done, a nurse came and took me to a room to take my vitals and ask me some questions. Then we went back to the waiting room to get Brian and walked to a different room where my oncologist was going to come and talk to me.

Before the nurse left she put a ...paper (what the heck, PAPER??) robe/shirt on the chair. I assumed of course that I was supposed to wear it. It felt so uncomfortable, it was short and didn't have sleeves, like a short poncho made of paper. I felt so...degraded. Why do they treat sick people this way? Like having cancer and being poked and pricked and probed doesn't already take enough of our dignity away? I was obvious a little sad, and Brian who saw me like this got really upset. He worries about me a lot.

Finally the doctor came in. As soon as he saw me I could tell that he felt apologetic too. "You really didn't need to take your clothes off and wear that!" Really? Then why do you even have those things in here? For those who feel like wearing them?

Anyway, he told me not to worry, everything will be OK blah, blah, and he talked about my cancer and the way he wants to treat it. Brian of course had a ton of questions again. I really don't know how he comes up with all that stuff! Of course it's extremely helpful, because I'm still in such a daze over this whole thing. There are still moments that I just don't feel like talking about it! I want them to do whatever needs to be done, no questions asked. I know it's not the right approach, but that's how I feel, so having Brian with me is really a blessing. He's the one that keeps me sane, and of course...completely informed!

I was a little surprised when the Dr. ,who saw my reaction after having to listen to all the details and statistics, came close, held my hand and told me: "You're like my wife when she had breast cancer. She didn't want to hear or talk about it, she just wanted it out of her." Bingo!

Well after all the talking, he sent a nurse to come and talk to me (some more) about all the side effects that I would probably experience after the treatment. She explained step by step what they were going to do to me, she gave me 2 folders full of information and a cute tote bag to put everything in. She was very nice and friendly. She was also very thorough, so Brian didn't really have a lot to ask this time! ;-) When she was done she took me to the 3rd floor to start the treatment.

When they called me and lead me to the room, my heart just dropped.
Here I was in long shaped room packed with la-z-boy chairs, about 25 chairs total, each with an IV stand on the side, and tons of really old and middle age suffering people (many of them African Americans, since this is their downtown office) sitting miserably in them, with IVs stuck in their arms or chests. Granted they had la-z-boyz, although they were the really cheap kind, but nobody seemed to be enjoying this "luxurious comfort".

My first thought was that it looked like a very old hair salon that a lot of sick people liked to frequent in order to get their haircuts. Then I noticed 2 bald ladies, one wearing a wig and another one with a scarf, so that perception seemed pretty lame on my part.

I felt restless. Is this how I'm going to be in a few weeks? I couldn't help feeling that I really did not belong in that group. I could tell that many of the old folks were staring at me, thinking that I was too young to be there. Some would just nod their heads to let me know they understood this would be hard on me, just like it was hard on them. I could even hear whispers, but now I think that it could have been all in my head. I heard a rush of blood going to my head blurring my vision and I felt disoriented for minute or two.

The nurse that took me in probably noticed the horror in my face too.
She said: "Eeee, let's take you over to that far corner, it's more quiet and your husband can have a seat right next to you too." Thank goodness!

I ended up sitting at the very end of the room and although it was a lot better, I still could not believe what my eyes were seeing! "How could this be?"Brian said. I could tell that he felt so bad! First the paper poncho, now this. He kept apologizing to me and saying how sorry he was. He kept saying "I'm supposed to take care of you, and this is unacceptable! We'll find a different place."

It didn't take too long for both of us to realize what was wrong in this picture. Since this was their downtown office, it must "serve" patients that can only afford the less favorable health insurances, like Medicare etc.

I felt so sorry for those people, and guilty at the same time. I didn't like being treated this way, but at least I have the option to get up and say: "Are you kidding me? You call this "care"? (ironically that's also the name of the clinic!) I'll go somewhere else, and my insurance will still cover everything."

I was ashamed to realize that all those old people and working class adults, who looked so frail and were scared as much as I was, if not more, really had no other choice but to take this "care" and deal with it. No other option.
I turned to Brian and said': "You know, I only have 5 more treatments. It's not that bad. I just want to do it and be done. I really don't care what this place looks like." I think he felt a little better. I know I did.

Later though, when I went to use the restroom, we saw that down another hallway there were... "private rooms". Women with gold fingers on their fat fingers, right by their husbands in their expensive suits, peacefully reading their newspaper or talking on their Blackberries, while the IV dripped in their arms.

At first I was relieved. That's more like it! That's what I'm used to! Let's do this next time! And then it hit me again. Us and them...
Like cancer will treat us better than it treats them, because we get to be in a private room while they push poison in our veins. Malakies (take out your Greek dictionaries.)

It was a surreal experience, to say the least. It certainly was an eye opener and it made me feel quite strange.

Anyway I went back and started the IV again. A young nurse kept coming to take my vitals every 15-30 minutes. She said it's because it was my first time and they were worried about a possible allergic reaction to the medication.

Well, it did feel like there was something nasty flowing in my veins (yeah, I wonder why), but now, several hours later, I still don't have any nausea or dizziness yet, just a really bad heartburn.

They did give me 2 different medications through my IV for nausea etc. before the chemo, so I should be OK for today. If it gets worse tomorrow, my oncologist has already prescribed the same kind of medicine in pills. I'll have to take those for the next 48 hours just in case.

I feel rather tired of course and by blood pressure that's usually between 80-100, is up to 120-130 again. I know it's still withing normal range, but it's higher than my normal. My diastolic though is fine. My heart rate also went up again after the treatment. It was 74 yesterday, but it was 102 this evening.

They did checked my INR (how much time it takes for my blood to clot) which, to my dismay, had climbed up to... 5.8!! Yikes!
It should normally be between 2-3, so of course now they're afraid it might cause bleeding! They told me not to take the Coumadin (the blood thinner I've been taking since I got out of the hospital) for the next couple of days, then take only half a pill (2.5 mg) on Monday, then switch back to 5mg, then 2.5mg again and alternate the dose until Friday when they'll recheck it.

I'm supposed to call them if my fever goes over 100.5 even if it's the middle of the night. I just checked and I have 100.4, I feel chills and I'm all sweaty at the same time. I'll pretend I won't check it again until tomorrow, because I'll be asleep. ;-)

I know that if I call they'll tell me to go to the ER, and I also know exactly how it's going to be there. I'll have to wait 3-4 hours for someone to even glance my way! So, thanks but no thanks, I can sleep in my bed, get some rest, and go tomorrow, if I need to (knock, knock). I'm hoping not.

And this brings us to my other problem. How is it possible for me to be dead tired, but still can't sleep! My doctor gave me Ativan (a sedative to calm me down If I'm too anxious to sleep), but I really don't want to take it. I'm sick and tired of all the medication I have to take, but I feel I still need to give it a try. So, I'll hurry up and wrap up, read the new book I downloaded on my Kindle, a very interesting book called "Beyond Belief: The Secret Gospel of Thomas"

Hopefully I won't be too sick to write tomorrow. The warned me that the next 2 days will be the worst! This will be quite the Happy Easter!

Save me Easter Bunny!