I’ve had a hard time getting started writing today. Actually, I’m about five days later than I planned to write this. I knew, as we all know, that I would be feeling unwell after my chemo session but somehow thought that I would still want to put it all down on paper. I didn’t know that I not only wouldn’t feel like it, I didn’t want to either. I feel just a little stupid saying that, but you know, I’ve always just “soldiered on” if I had something I wanted to do or thought I needed to do. That sure wasn’t happening this week.
First, the fact that the I received my chemo infusion became a most complicated issue. Because I developed COVID over the holidays, it was decided that the timing would be changed by one day. When I called to confirm two days in advance, I was told that it was happening the next day and if not, we were going to have to postpone for another week – again! I assured them that I would do all the things they told me I needed to get done to be there as I just couldn’t see things put off one more time.
We arrived at eight thirty in the morning to go to the lab in the cancer centre to have a sample taken that would ensure the pharmacist and my oncologist that my blood count was such that I was safe to receive chemo. Chemotherapy drugs can stop your bone marrow producing enough red blood cells, white blood cells and platelets. So before your treatment starts you need to have a blood test to check your levels of these. Even though the waiting line was long, they are so incredibly efficient that it’s not a long wait. Next stop, the pharmacy to receive the medications I need to take before each session. These are to prevent nausea – I must admit I was feeling okay about the whole nausea thing as I had heard that chemo has developed such that people don’t feel it as much these days. Well then, we waited, and waited and it almost became what my daughter would call a “shitshow” as we waited for all doctors to be sure that I could receive my chemo infusion that day. By one thirty, we were assured that it was happening in the next hour.
Being part of the chemo floor at the cancer therapy is a sobering, confusing, scary experience but also becomes an inclusive one because we are all there for the same thing. How it works is that there is a large waiting area as people are called in as their chemotherapy drugs are ready for them – they are prepared on an individual basis, designed for each patient and you go in when yours are ready.
I have been on the chemo floor and in the chemo suite as it is called many times when my mom was receiving treatment. It all looked the same as before, but it wasn’t the same as before because this was my turn. I have to say that it brought back sad memories but the attitude of staff is one that inspires hope and that was important to me.
Even though this wasn’t new for me, it was for my husband. He told me that he was overwhelmed with first the number of people that travelled through the doors of the chemo floor over the course of the day. It was staggering to him, so many. So many people of all ages, genders, cultures, stages in their own cancer journeys. We talked about how the room must be filled with so many emotions. He also talked about how incredibly impressed he was with all the staff within this facility. They are professional, inspire great confidence and are so, so kind and compassionate to all.
The actual chemo did not take as long as I thought. It was different than I expected as I expected the typical intravenous bag with drugs in it. Instead, my infusion was through HUGE syringes and then a small saline drip. My nurse carefully explained each step and what would happen next all the way through. We already know that needles are an issue in my arms and it turns out they can’t use the arm where I had my surgery as they removed lymph nodes there, so we only had one shot at it. It wasn’t easy but she did a great job. She then explained that I should receive a Picc line or a Port for my chemo sessions. This means a permanent needle would be inserted with a direct line to a vein near my heart to save the veins in my arm as it seems they won’t accommodate this many needles. Since there is a long, long wait for a port (which is more permanent and allows for bathing, showering, etc.) I will receive a picc line, hopefully before my next session in two weeks.
Generally when I write a page describing all my experiences here, I know where I am going and I have a message of some kind, even if it’s just for me. I don’t know that I do today, but it helped to write it.
My admiration for all of the doctors, nurses, the pharmacist who took all the time I needed for explanation only grows each and every time I interact with them. They make this such that you know you can get through because their skill, patience and caring make it so.
Oh yes, two people rang the bell in the chemo waiting room while we were there that day. This means their chemo treatments are done. There was great applause and I’m sure many minds were saying, “one day it will be my turn”.
We went home not knowing at all what the next few days would bring but knowing we will get through it together. My husband has been unwavering in his support and I am so grateful.
