I drove us and checked in to have my blood drawn and as usual my port would not give up any precious drop. My right arm was stuck with a needle and another 1" Huber for my port plus a cocktail to loosen up whatever was making it not work for the draw. It would be in preparation for my infusion later. We made our way around the corner to pick up a refill for after chemo meds before walking a full length back to see my surgeon.
My appointment with my surgeon ended up an hour later. He was never that late. I surmised that later when I was told why my infusion was later, too, due to a machine being down for one of my blood tests (which had to be done manually!) that was the cause and he ended up seeing me anyway. This time he had a medical student interview me before she came to get him so she could perform a private exam in his presence. He seemed pleased of my progress and we talked about the issues with my port which he says is not uncommon and attributed my chest pain from recovering from the surgery, etc. We also discussed my wound and gave me another alternative to care for it so I could start fully exercising my lower body.
During all this time, Jeff was able to log into work in the waiting room thanks to the wifi at the center and he was able to find an outlet when his laptop battery was getting low. He didn't end up burning a vacation or sick day thanks to the access. I was happy he had something to occupy himself and a means to IM Tawny and others.
While we waited to be called for my infusion appointment on the 4th floor, I noticed a man in the midst of a complicated cross stitch work. I must admit I was sexist and thought him a gay man at first. Something compelled me to introduce myself and ask if I could snap a pic for my blog to show how others were coping with their chemotherapy and cancer in general.
Here is Dave with his amazing Victorian houses:
Dave ended up a great guy to talk to before we were called in. Jeff was in the corner logged into work and plugged into a different outlet. He was close enough to listen to the conversation.
At 55, Dave was a special case with three different types of cancers; needless to say, he was on a special team. The one cancer has him carrying an ostomy bag that with a permanent marker, he drew a smiley face and words below it that says, "Shit Happens" which caused the nurses and doctor to laugh today when they examined him. He has to go through radiation and chemotherapy, but will get to keep his full head of hair. Lucky duck!
I liked Dave. He talked about his wife and how they use to own a bed and breakfast in St. Petersburg, about an hour away. Dave got his start doing needlework 16+ years ago to pass time away on a ship that transports to the oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico. In fact, the rig that just blew up was a sister rig to the one he went to before his health issues. He has other needlework projects waiting for him and takes pride in his progress.
We agreed on our approach to cancer -- lots of humor! He said he sat on our side of the waiting room because the other side was filled with "doe in the headlights" type of people. I decided then and there that our side was where the "cool kids were sitting". Yeah!
My little angel Serina took time out from her research schedule to come to sit a while before she took our lunch order. My lunch was a tortilla wrap filled with ham, brie, and apples while Jeff had a zesty buffalo chicken wrap. I was thankfully able to eat mine right before the Benadryl drip took me to sleep. Maybe I woke up twice? I know I woke up when my bladder decided it needed to be emptied. Jeff was not in sight. I figured he was in the waiting room logged into his laptop. When I returned, he was waiting for me. Serina came again -- it was about 4-ish and she stayed a while before she had to pick up pretty dog Belle from doggie daycare. Kimmee was out of town and she was helping care for the pooch.
My last bag of chemicals was completed around 5:45pm making my stay at the hospital almost nine hours. It was a little rough but went quick. I felt groggier and slower than the last time. Jeff was a good cookie and continued to carry my extra bag. Before we left the elevator well on the bottom floor, I could have sworn I saw a red heart sprinkle. How could it have traveled that far from the other building and still exist from mid-January was my first thought? I backtracked. Jeff did too when I told him what I thought I saw. We found nothing. Jeff said it was meant for me only. I smiled at the phantom image. Perhaps a soul letting me know something -- giving me a soul kiss to cheer me?
I asked Jeff to make one stop at a fast food place so I could get a salad for dinner. There was no point in me trying to make dinner for myself as tired as I was this time. Jeff had dinner waiting for him at home with his family. I was grateful he lasted all day. Three more chemotherapy cocktails or "happy hours" to go, my lovelies...
Love,
Sarah Sprinkles xxoo
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