Wake up, wash, dress, breakfast, work, coffee, meeting, lunch, run, meeting, coffee, meeting, meeting, home, cook, eat, TV, sleep.

Tired just writing that.

My journey started in September as you all know. Dr. Hedley was very reassuring even then, or should that be specially then. He warned us of what was to come in gentle tone. Nothing he could have said would have earned us enough. One of the items of note was that we would get accustomed to everything. That everything would appear to be normal at some point. That we would understand the system and be able to use it as it should be.

I have been going for chemo sessions since the month of October, I think. Loosing track of things.  Janet would come with me. Holding on tight lest I run for the hills. We would sit in the Chemo Daycare waiting room wondering what was taking so long. Who do we ask? Can we ask? What do we ask? Hey, bud, I have a 2:30 appointment, it is now 3:30, what’s up? I mean, like, really, do we get to go in already or what?

The questions came out with a bit of hesitation. How much longer do we have to wait? Please and thank you.

Janet would sit with me through the whole 3 hour session. Reading, talking, asking, peering inquisitively at my face for any telltale changes that might signal alarm. I remember the first session, where the fabulous Sharon looked after us. Calmly we were told what to expect. Except when when I started getting really hot. Allergies. Moi, allergic to drugs, say it ain’t so. Nothing an injection of whatever won’t take care of. She was happy we mentioned it. Most people think it is normal and do not mention what is going on. Not yours truly. Very vocal about everything.

We are now 7 months into the program. Session after session with few surprises. Once in a while, a nurse gives out  tip that appears to be totally inconsequential. There is so much information, that it all comes out in dribs and drabs. My third chemo drug is something called 5FU. You figure out what it stands for, I have my own acronyms all laid out. This drug comes in the baby bottle called an infuser. It is attached to my Port-a-cath and takes about 46 hours to deplete itself into my blood stream. The connector between the infuser and my Port-a-cath is taped to my chest. At first we thought that was just convenience. Turns out that heat makes the infuser work better. Heat from the chest allows for a more even flow. I know sleep with my hand over the connector to increase the heat element. Turns out that activity also makes the drug flow faster since you are increasing the amount of heat your body releases. My last nurse gave me a small lecture about making the drug flow faster. I am usually done in 42 hours instead of 46. Small victories. The nurse was adamant that I should not rush things. They are supposed to take the time they are set for. Whatever. So I will die a couple of hours earlier than I should. Sue me.

My last chemo session was on April 20th at 10:30AM. It was as uneventful as all the others have become. I was ushered in on time and out on time as well. There was only one major difference between this and previous sessions.

I went there in public transportation, all by myself, like a big boy. Went through the session all by myself, and finally home by public transportation, all on my own again.  It was very smooth. There are too many people on the streetcars at that time of day. It felt good in some ways to be able to do things by yourself.


One Response to “Routines”

  1. the new normal, as you said. well, well. i had a guest from india for the past week, so it was hard to get away. but now he's gone, i'll call on mon and tues, maybe i can finally see you without hair. love, gita

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