Chemo, Day #3, Cycle #2

A couple weeks ago during my last round, I wrote about my fear of letting any of this insanity become routine--the feeling that once any of this felt "normal," the battle would already be lost. 

I still feel that way. It seems that maybe someone here at the Cancer Center agrees, because for the third time in three treatments, I'm in a different place. 

The difference this time: A bed. 

Who knew this place had bedrooms?

The room is still isolated from the rest of the infusion atrium. I'm in one of only 5 rooms, so it seems I've won the "chemo treatment lottery" today, and have been awarded one of the fancy rooms. 

Not gonna lie, it's pretty nice. I've been noticing fatigue more and more, especially today. It's just a pretty persistent feeling of weakness...feeling drained...and the chance to relax, or even nap, is welcome. 

The 3 hours of sitting around in the waiting room wasn't welcome, but when I felt the urge to find someone to bitch to, I remembered the people/drugs here are saving my life. 

So sit back down and shut up, you big whiny idiot--is what I told myself. 

I'm feeling a little rough today, so while the experience of seeing the sick around me in this place is still profound, I'm finding it a bit difficult to express it at the moment--running a bit low on expressive/creative juices, mostly due to being so tired. 

What I will say is that this is a great place for me to have a "bad" day. 

I feel like shit, but when I look around and see what other people are dealing with, the state of their health and their bodies, the look on their faces and the faces of their loved ones, I tell myself again:

Sit down and shut up, you big whiny idiot. 

I'll try and share more about today later on/in the coming days. 

I'm just too damn tired right now. I don't know if the drugs are catching up to me a bit, or if it's just general fatigue. Time will tell. 

In closing, being here: 

It still isn't routine. 

It still sucks. 

So I'm still winning. 

If I'm the Spartans, cancer is the Wolverines. 

They're the real big whiny idiots.

Nap time. 

The only person here better dressed than I am

This guy.

My feelings entirely, pal.

We meet again

"Hi. I'm here for my kool-aid drugs."

"Also, good game a couple Saturdays ago. Let's stick a stake in this cancer, too."

Never enough spartan gear in my closet to wear on these days. 

I wonder

If the nurses/doctors at the UofM Cancer Center will recognize me tomorrow:

No use for this one for a while:

Then again, I'm sure they'll know who I am. I'm the only guy wearing GREEN and WHITE every week. Huge game this week, with a common enemy. Maybe the comments about my wardrobe will be a little friendlier this time around. If not, I don't care. 

Your football team is terrible. 

3rd times a charm

Tomorrow will be the 3rd chemo treatment for me, and the start of the second cycle. 

Both times, I underestimated how poorly I would feel in the days to follow. That isn't to say it was unbearable--I knew it wasn't going to be fun, but still. 

We'll see if I can be a little more prepared the time around. 

Love you buddy

Not a happy anniversary. 

So were gonna go have some brunch, some drinks, play some BAGS, and have some laughs--just like nothing had changed, even if it has. 

"And I hope that when I'm gone, people look down at my tombstone and say, 'man, that guy sure owed me a lot of money.'"-Jack Handy

(He didn't).

Miss you man.

A new tradition

I've already gone in to some detail about the death of my best friend Marc on here. Tomorrow, early in the morning, will be 1 year since his passing. 

His brother Steve invited us to take place in a Jewish tradition--lighting the Yahrzeit candle. It's to be lit at sundown on the eve of the anniversary of the loved ones passing. 

The flame represents the spirit of the deceased. 

It all seems appropriate to me. 

I Miss you Marc.