So I'm here.
It's been a long day.
I'm laying in my extremely comfortable bed after finishing my phenomenally delicious dinner (the sarcasm is strong in me). It wasn't good. Baked Lasagna looked a bit more line coney dog sauce...I didn't say I didn't eat all of it:
And as things are quieting down, I can't help but wonder, as the sun sets on my first night of many here:
What in the hell am I doing here? How did it come to this?
Like I said, it's been a long day.
I know what I'm doing here, I know how it came to this, it's just difficult to grasp at times.
I'm here because a tumor was found I had surgery it accomplished nothing I went through 6 months of chemotherapy it accomplished nothing so now I get to upend my life leave work leave the things I like to do generally isolate myself from people I care about and sit and puke and seethe in anger and frustration. Tough to accept. Especially during times, like now, which I try to keep to a minimum: when I'm feeling bad for myself. I hate it. Woe is me is a waste of time.
So fuck it. I'm gonna snap out of it in 3, 2, 1....
Today was AWESOME. I showed up, and they drew my blood. Whoa!
Then they inserted a PICC line up my arm and into my chest. It's a central line used to administer all the drugs and medications I'll need while I'm here. Science!
Then...the main event...5 hours of CHEMO! First round of high dose BEAM Chemo.
It looked like blue Gatorade!
And no, blue Gatorade totally wasn't my favorite flavor until a few hours ago! What luck!
Alright, that's enough of the shtick. Truthfully, everything today went pretty smoothly. I feel okay at the moment. It's just the quiet before the storm.
I will do more chemo every day for the next four days at 9am, 11am, 9pm, 11pm. Four times a day for four days. The side effects will kick in quickly. In no time, I'll be looking like this guy again:
 |
| minus the awesome beard |
I'm told to expect to feel the worst in about a week from now, so I'm going to do my best to stay positive and active in here, and hope for the best. Have to hope it's just not as bad as I envision in my head. I'm sure I'll let you know.
The 5-star accomodations:
A lovely can-not-walk-in closet
The pinnacle of pull out beds, for overnight guests.
A high end dresser, from Pottery Barn, I believe.
Just a few constant reminders that this is not a hotel room. Not at all.
Big guy for a twin bed. Also, Spartans.
My view, for 75% of the time, for as long as I'm here.
Smart-assery aside, the room is fine.
There is some space to roam, I control the temp, the bathroom is close, the bed is fine--what else could I ask for? It will do. The hallways are long and walking them are encouraged--one lap is a mile. There is a lounge and an exercise room and a kitchen.
There are people who would kill for these conditions, so I better shut the hell up.
It's been a strange day. A long day. An experience this new, this "jarring," hasn't happened since my first day of Chemo, a year ago.
I'm finding there are a lot of similarities.
I don't understand why I'm here. Everyone here is 25+ years older than me. They all look incredibly ill.
I'm different. I'm young and strong and was told I have "good" cancer. This has to be some kind of mistake.
That is the thought of a scared person. A person in denial.
And I've had it bouncing around in my head at multiple times today.
I've had this feeling that this is all a dream. That I'm not actually here, that I'm not isolated from the people I care about, that I don't actually have cancer, that I'm different. The idea that I'm special.
This overwhelming feeling that I don't belong here.
Then, just like the first day of Chemo, I've been lucky enough to be hit with a dose of reality.
I walked into my bathroom to see some kind of strange contraption in the toilet.
It's to "catch" a stool sample. Um.
Wow.
Wowwwwwwwwwwwww. C'mon. I stared at it, and had to laugh.
Not the kind of thing a healthy, strong, young person would see in their bathroom.
Who knew it would take a shit collecting toilet contraption to help me realize it. To accept it.
I belong here. This isn't a mistake.
So let's get it over with.
Day +5 on deck.
Last thought:
If you know a nurse, or know someone who knows a nurse, or know someone who knows someone who met a nurse once....find that nurse, and hug them. Thank them. Tell them they are respected...because the jobs they do for me and for patients in general, just...good lord.
Hug a nurse.
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