Garden of Dandelions

How is it that I'm halfway through chemo and haven't written an update?

Probably because it knocks me on my hindquarters.

And makes me say weird things like, "Are these your footballs...I mean shoes?!" and "There are plates in the dryer...I mean dishwasher!"

I feel like a walking, talking Mad Lib most days.

So how's it going?

Well, it's going...to drive me bat crazy if these next 7 weeks don't zoom right on by. And if my last 4 treatments are anything like the first 4. Which they aren't supposed to be. BUT, again, nothing during this whole ordeal has been how it's "supposed to be" with me. How's that for a lovely upbeat attitude?

I guess let me paint the picture of the infusion room to set the stage. It has multiple pods of chairs. Which is basically 4 sections of recliners lined up on both sides facing each other. Maybe 10 per pod? I don't remember. I don't take that detailed of notes, people.

I walked in that first day and they said, "Pick a chair".

Slight panic set in. I do better when someone says, "Sit there". Takes the decision making off me. I'd wished I'd read up on Infusion Room Etiquette, if there's even such a thing.

There were plenty of chairs that morning. So should I find the farthest one from others? Do I sit down right next to someone and make a new friend? Do I greet people as I go by? Or curtsy as I make my way down the row? I decided just to give a slight smile to folks as I passed. Heck, we're all stuck in this room together for hours that none of us want to be in.

Then I saw it. My chair. In the corner. Back against the wall so I could see the whole room. Right next to the window overlooking the garden. With a spot for David next to it. Off I headed. As I sat down I realized there was a guy right across from me getting infused.

Shoot. This wasn't going to be awkward at all. I'm sure he wasn't thrilled to now be sitting across from this newbie stranger for the morning. But I'd already committed to the chair so it would have been more awkward to get up and move.

As I settled in, I gazed around at the others in my pod. The fellow across from me I'd be avoiding eye contact with. An older man hooked up to meds with his wife next to him. Another white haired gentleman already asleep.

What the heck?! Had I inadvertently wandered into the man pod? I later learned that wasn't a thing. Just a coincidence that day.

I won't go into a play by play of chemo because that will just start to read like a medical journal and even my eyes will begin to glass over. I did get a wee bit curious though when the nurse wheeled over a huge cart of supplies, gowned up, and started creating a sterile field to access my port that first time. Even I have to wear a mask for that part. I started thinking, "Wait. What? Do they have me scheduled for a surgery right here and now I didn't know about? And am I scrubbing in for my own mini surgery?!"

I got two meds these first 4 rounds. Adriamycin and Cytoxan. Or "AC" for us BC experts. Yeah, I'm down with the breast cancer lingo now. We're a super hip club in case you didn't know. One I hope none of you ever have to join.

The Adriamycin, as I mentioned on FB, is known as the "red devil". And boy howdy, is it ever! I am SUPER thankful I didn't have terrible nausea with it. My home meds basically knocked me out for 4 days afterward to help avoid that. Hey, bring it on. I'll take that. I had to suck on a popsicle while it was getting infused to help prevent mouth sores. I felt like a 5 year old getting bribed to take their shot.

The "red devil" part for me was just when I started to come around and have a day or so of standing upright and safely being able to drive myself places, it would say, "Oh? Feeling better are we? Have plans to head on in to work today? Alrighty. I'm just gonna drop your white blood cell counts to almost nothing. And, what the heck, let's drop those red cell counts too. Nope, more. A little more. Eh, let's just go ahead and make you anemic and put you right on the edge of needing a blood transfusion. There. And just for grins, since I dropped those levels so low, let's raise your temp up. More. A little more. Yep, 103 sounds about right. I don't want to make you go unconscious or anything."

I was on 3 different antibiotics and needed IV fluids once. All during my weeks/weekends where I was supposed to be feeling good. Little devil for sure.

I've gotten pretty good at knowing when my counts are dropping. Walking out to the mailbox and feeling like I just ran a 5K usually tips me off.

When I had to page my oncologist this weekend for yet another fever, he said, "Ok, tell me where you are with your treatments because I'm just coming back from vacation."

"Well, I just finished my AC..."

"Oh thank God!" he interjected.

"I know! I am!"

The smell of the saline they use to flush my port has become my most hated smells of all smells. Oh. My. Word. I have to hold my breath and go to my happy place when they do that part. Why can't it come in different scents/flavors? Like tooth polish at the dentist? Bubblegum would for sure be my first pick.

The kids have been pretty understanding when I feel like crud in a bucket and they have to forego having sleepovers here. Drue texted me this weekend asking how I felt. When I said, "Not so great" she said, "Oh, ok. I was gonna ask if so-and-so could sleep over but we can do it another time."

She texted me a few hours later asking again how I was feeling.

"What do you mean??" I texted back wearily. We'd already been through this. There would be no sleepover. Turns out, she was just genuinely concerned that time and wanted to make sure my fever was gone. No ulterior motive whatsoever. Oopsie.

So that about sums it up. Probably more detail than you cared to know. If people see me out and ask about chemo, I usually say, "Oh, it's going pretty good. Not as terrible as I'd feared." Because I feel like I have to defend it since it's, quite frankly, saving my life at the moment.

For some reason, it has rained on each and every treatment day thus far. I'm sure there's a witty correlation to be made there but I'm sleepy so that will have to wait for another day.

My coveted window corner chair was occupied this last time. I texted David who hadn't made it in from the truck yet. He offered to get his tire tool and "rough somebody up" for me.

I will not be asking him to co-author the Infusion Room Etiquette Book I'll be writing.