The fast fade

Well, chemo #1 started out a bit rough, I must admit. Or maybe it was the port placement procedure that got the ball rolling the wrong way? I can’t be sure. At 6:30 a.m. yesterday the hubs and I registered at the hospital. Now, I was under the silly impression this would be outpatient, which I have had enough of and knew where you typically went. However, I found myself being directed to a room on the dreaded 7th floor – – oncology. My heart was skipping all kinds of beats as we entered the hallway and headed straight to the room my brother Joe was in for 10 days before being released to hospice. Yikes, a full on panic attack was making it’s way to the surface. Crap!  “No, no, why are we here?” I settled myself down as we entered the room right next to Joe’s old room.

My lovely, compassionate surgeon Dr. V came to get me and away we went. Now, here’s the thing about placing a port, they are digging a little area in your chest to insert a tube in said “area” and they don’t knock you out? I mean you are numbed and talking a little crazy, but you’re still talking?!?! True story. For about an hour – who knows what the hell I said? I faintly remember talking about lake houses and family cottages, something about Adrian Peterson being mooned by the Packers Bus in Minnesota? WTH? I remember rattling off – at the very end not by coincidence- that Adrian Peterson and the Packers weren’t my forte as I was a Bears fan:) Ha. So, I must have had a few wits left in me:)

Then it was to recovery. The hubs was relieved by one of my besties, the lovely, Mrs. K for our afternoon of chemo. It was a day. After pre-meds, the chemotherapy agents and a quick change to the port dressing, we slipped out about 4 p.m. Of course the lovely Mrs. K couldn’t leave me hanging on just hospital food so we dined at a fav, SAP! Riding that steroid enhanced appetite, I ate way too much. I found myself back at home ready for bed at the same time as my kids. Little did I know this was simply a nap to steroid rage that would follow! I should have recognized the signs.

So from about 3 a.m. on as the rest of my family slumbered peacefully…I banged out several loads of laundry, every permission slip that could be found was signed, sealed and ready for take off, concussion forms for summer sports, printed and organized. Toilets and sinks cleaned for my impending vomit. Dishes done put away. And after all that it still wasn’t time to wake the kids up yet! A quick run to Starbucks for me and an unmentionable fast food place for the kids for breakfast sandwiches, talk about a great wake up for these kids! Hey I figure it’s a peace offering for them, this roid rage isn’t gonna last forever:)

And the light is fading now -I could have lifted up a small compact car a few hours ago. Now, my head is pounding my legs heavy. It was a helluva run while it lasted!

Today – I shall head into my oncologists’ office for a dressing change, port flush and a quick shot to increase my white blood cell counts and then it will be lights out for today.

Thanks again for all your love and support. One down feels damn good. Onward!

3 thoughts on “The fast fade

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s