cancer · chemo · self-care

Round 3 is in the Books

I got to the hospital this morning at 7:00 am. I didn’t start getting my infusion until 11:00 because my platelets are low still. They finally decided I could do it and I was so damn glad. They also lowered my doses and it makes a difference. I could actually walk to my sister’s car instead of having to have a wheelchair.

Chemo sucks really bad. I’m lying on my couch for the next 5 days at least. No sense in pushing myself.

But supposedly this medicine is killing cancer in my body which I appreciate. Also, I used to have a lot of blood sometimes in the bathroom. After starting treatment it has stopped. I hope that means it’s working.

I get up and do this crap even though I’m scared.

I do it for Bill, Andrew, Maria and Audra. I do it for my sisters. I do it for my friends (finding out who those people really are) I do it for future grandchildren.

Also

I do it for me. 💜

2 to go!!! Then on to the next phase.

I hate being on the couch all day. Oh well—tough shit 💙
cancer · chemo

Fucking Marla and Fucking Julia

So I don’t really love my chemo infusion people. Quelle surprise!

So I call the lady who draws my blood “Fucking Marla” because even though she’s “nice” she mentions God to me too much. <eye roll>

Also she comments on my clothes. Loves my coat but tells me my jeans are too big.

Thanks for the fashion heads up, Fucking Marla. Truthfully I think she says these things to me because she knows I’m not even almost like her. I can’t help it if I’m cooler than she is.

My infusion nurse I call “Fucking Julia”. She doesn’t like me because I have a mind of my own. I ice my hands and feet at every infusion—for the WHOLE infusion—because I’m trying to minimize possible neuropathy. She wasn’t into me doing it, but I told her I could never live with myself if I didn’t try. And that I was going to do it whether she liked it or not.

During my first infusion she congratulated me for showing up, saying some people just dodge it altogether. Then after my 2nd infusion, I asked while panicking a little if people ever freak out at chemo and she looked at me and said “no, never.”

Right, Fucking Julia. Way to contradict yourself.

I have 3 more rounds of this. Last one will be May 5 (if my blood counts stay up, please let them stay up!)

I shall never ever miss seeing these people again.

Final thought—there should be at least one atheist caregiver in every department of a cancer center.

Just sayin’.

But whatever.