Chemo Day #6, Cycle #3

So I took a bit of an unintentional hiatus from the blog there. Things got busy, the holidays arrived, and I came down with a pretty nasty cold. Excuses, excuses. Anyway, I know I'm late to the party with this entry, as Chemo Day #7, Cycle #4 is right around the corner, but I want to get it in for record keeping purposes. 

#6 of 12. Wow. 

Initial reaction: How the fuck am I only half way through this? 

I guess that sounds whiny, but man, it feels like I've been doing this a long time. I feel like a seasoned veteran by this point. 

The reality is, however, that it's only been a bit over 3 months. Holy shit. 

I guess Einstein was onto something with that whole relativity thing. 3 months on chemotherapy was always going to feel longer than 3 months of "normal" living, right? 

This treatment was interesting. Thankfully, they kept me out of the "garden." I got a bed again, which I love. It's nice. Kick the shoes off. Warm blankets. Lay back...and get pumped full of poison!

For the first time, though, the order of the chemo drugs given to me was different. Since it had been done in the same order the previous 5 times, I figured there was a reason for it. I was wrong. 

IV drips first, which generally don't bother me much. 

Kool-Aid syringes last--which are the worst. As soon as they pull these things out of the bag, I can taste it. It's hard to explain. Even writing this now, I almost gag. 

This new order sped up the process, which is always nice. Once you're done, though, you're done and free to leave. For the previous 5 treatments, I had another full 1-2 hours after the Kool-Aid to collect myself and calm my nerves/stomach before taking off. Not this time. 

This time, the nurse pressed the last bit of red toxin out of the syringe and into my heart, unplugged me and said have a nice night. 

I knew right away that I was going to puke. The taste was so intense, my stomach churning, mouth watering--it was coming. For some reason, though, I just wanted out of the building. I passed more than one perfectly good bathroom, where I could have gotten sick in private. 

Nope. I'll just rush out the doors to the parking lot where concerned people can see and hear me hacking away. I don't know. It was cold outside. It felt good. It felt good to puke. It felt good to puke in public and have people understand why. It was weird, but it was strangely satisfying. Swish some water around, spit. Dust myself off. 

Drive home. An hour from East Lansing. 

Halfway home.