Last week of Chemo kicks off

My wish for a last minute reprieve did not materialize. At 8:00am I showed up at the chemo lounge for a final week of poison torture.  I can do one more week standing on my head... well maybe sitting in a chair.

They were late calling me in for the requisite bloodwork and when I sat down in Dawn's chair (Dawn is the primo Phlebotomist), I got a bit of the story when the second Phlebotomist arrived (I don't know her name but based on one experience with her, she is on the opposite side of the competence scale from Dawn.) Dawn exclaimed, "Where have you been?".  The D-list Phlebotomist glared back with a "You don't want to know" expression.  I didn't want to know.  I was only grateful to be sitting in Dawn's chair prepared for an efficient, nearly painless blood extraction.

When I moved on to my favorite comfy recliner in the lounge, I popped a greek yogurt with strawberries and assessed my surroundings.  The lovely African American woman in my direct eyeline was quietly reading from a computer tablet.  A sleeping older man in the lounge chair next to her was being attended by Nurse Linda, my nurse, and that meant she would be in the vicinity more often.  Behind me on the other side of the half-wall was lots of chatter but it was all in Spanish and could be tuned out.  The empty chair next to me meant a wild card patient at some point but I was up for the risk.

Beth, the room house mother (not sure of her title but she sits at a Central desk and guides traffic and takes vitals) took my temp and blood pressure (normal-good)) and brought me an ice water. When Nurse Linda arrived with the positive results of the bloodwork, she applied the I.V. to my port and asked me lots questions about all my past issues and all the new ones.  This was a good start.  Linda and I are in tune with each other and I feel like I have a medical professional focused on my case.  I opened up a little more and asked her the same questions I asked Dr. Scott last week and only received quotes about philosophy of living each day to the fullest: "What can I expect next?".  Linda speculated that it might be 3 months between CT scans.  That would give me to about the end of the year to practice a new normal.  That is something I can work with.

The I.V.s start with lots of hydration with incorporation of trace minerals.  The good anti-nausea drug bags are added next, buffering the wicked, killer drugs that will be added hours later.

I fussed with my iPad that seemed to be having difficulty connecting to the free wifi network.  Turns out they added a new level of security that requires the pressing of an "I agree" button each time I log on, to absolve the hospital from some kind of liability I suppose.  I read my important email and deleted all the junk.  I caught up on reading news, wisdom, gossip and entertainment on the recent Facebook updates of my friends just in time to look up as my old actual flesh and blood friend, Steve Klamer, (from high school) strode in and plunked into my visitor chair.  Steve had just finished morning chores (dealing with the last of the corn silage) on his brother's farm. 

Steve lives in Seattle where he is a fine carpenter specializing in barroom counters and fine wood embellishments.  He also invented the "butt-board" which applies a fulcrum behind the non-tapered edge of a drywall board and creates a taper with an adjoining non-tapered board.  Perfect for large ceiling installations.  Steve also was a mountain climber with an impressive list of conquests. His love of solitary work, philosophy and deep thinking, and a serious shoulder injury has him considering a change of career,  possibly taking up long distance truck driving.  Steve's high school job was working on a dairy farm.  This was fascinating to me since everyone else I knew had jobs like dish washing and lawn mowing.  Once or twice I got up at 4:00a.m. to observe his pre school day routine.  I still remember his routine and all the crazy things he told me about the business.  Eventually, he even had the job of "AI", artificially inseminating the cows with this really expensive, champion bull semen, imported from the west coast that was preserved in tubes submerged in liquid nitrogen. I watched him do this!  Having this knowledge of the cow business in his back pocket prepares him to come to Michigan for a month or two in the busy season to help his brother, who runs a small Dairy farm by himself.

After setting Steve up with some coffee, we immediately launched into an extended discussion about the farming business in this new era of climate change (most farmers are in denial according to Steve) and genetically modified foods.  Steve believes cows are meant to be grass fed.  He also believes genetically modified seeds are resulting in a food chain that is effecting animals and humans in uncertain and slow to recognize ways.  It will be the new, less healthy "normal".  He speaks from some authority as a person with some pretty serious digestive conditions including diabetes and an advanced gluten allergy that incapacitated him for a few years. He's on a natural medicines kick that has transformed his life.  He also wants to cure my cancer.

Amy, my nutritionist popped in to discuss all my eating issues.  It was very timely.  I had wanted to know about probiotic supplements. Steve joined a very engaging discussion that also included Amy's intern.  The conversation eventually broke up as the first and main course of chemotherapy arrived.  At this point I'm feeling really good.  Fluids are topped off.  Blood chemistry is rockin'.  Buffer drugs are doing their thaang. Attitude is tip top.  I'm ready for the hour and a half drip session.

I pulled some Gala apples out of my bag and Steve and I munched and while we engaged in more topics of discussion. The first course of chemo dripped to a conclusion in no time it seemed. The chime came on and was eventually turned off to keep the peace by another nurse.  Nurse Linda had gotten slammed with other patients all at once and finally dropped by to tell me she still needed to finish up with one more person before she could administer course two.  That chemical needs to be administered manually through a syringe over a 10 minute time frame. She would be tied to me for that period so she needed to clear the transitions of other patients first.

That second direct infusion seemed to go very fast; all of a sudden, Linda was disconnecting my port.  She booted us out the door and I was still in high spirits and not feeling sick at all.  From experience, I know that discomfort will come tomorrow and build up to Friday when I come back again to have my fluids reset one last time for this series.

I invited Steve to follow me home for some homemade gluten-free chili.  I'm exploiting my current and perhaps last (for a while) pang of hunger before the chemo really takes effect.  With chili, Steve and I share some of the natural medicine that he has brought along with him.  Then he is off; out the door to do something about a field of soybeans.

I'm still feeling real good when my cell phone text message chime goes off alerting me that Alice's plane has landed in Grand Rapids.  She has arranged her own airport pick up.  So I engage myself with a large dish of corn tortilla enchiladas verde, knowing that by the time they are ready to come out of the oven, I'll have my regular family, plus one root family member present to enjoy them.