Update: One Down, Fifty-One to Go

Wednesday? Feels like Tuesday - I think.

Only one week into official treatment for cure and I've already lost a day. Probably shouldn't complain too much; I'm going to lose a lot more over the coming months.

Any who, just wanted to give you a short update on the fascinating world of modern, western medicine as it applies to me.

In a nutshell, Mr. Bon & I arrived at 10:00am sharp Monday for first injections of chemotherapy treatment. Upon arrival, learned that the scheduler had mistakenly scheduled me for unneeded lab-work. We're not needed until 10:3o doctor's appointment to review and chat about upcoming events.
11:00am sharp, the doctor herself comes to the well-appointed lobby to invite us in for consultation. Just as we're entering the exam room - reception calls doctor away for urgent phone call.

More waiting. 11:something, doc comes in tells us many things we've already heard - most of which we understand and can almost recapitulate - and writes out a few more prescriptions that will help to counteract what ever shit is about to rain down on me. Call me a coward, but I began to worry when she mentioned the yeast infection that will surely inhabit my mouth by week's end.

Close to noon, we're sent upstairs to drop off the additional prescriptions (did I mention she'd already sent up orders for 3 others) and then to check-in at treatment center.

Checked in, sat down in another nice lobby and commenced waiting. Nothing like waiting for the unknown and watching others in various stages of their treatment enter the lobby and commence their wait for what they courageously already know what is about to come down.

One look at my full head of hair, told all that I was a newby. Some gave me a sympathetic, heartwarming smile. No one was in much of a mood to chat. I choose to believe that this was due to the drizzly Seattle weather we were experiencing.

Finally, a very kind nurse came to get us. I believe this was around 1:00pm. She showed us to our room - this time we chose a private room with no windows. Next time, we'll take the windows and curtains in lieu of actual walls.

Nurse Jeanne, sat us down & made me comfy with warm blankets and began to explain everything once again. Today's treatment, she reminded us was a 3-med infusion, and because it was the first treatment, all would be on a slow load drip to watch for unacceptable reactions.

Two of the meds have heavy duty side effects, so she loaded me up with a large menu of coping meds: Benadryl, Zofran, Pepcid; you'll have to ask Mr. Bon for the rest of the list because after she gave me the drugs and my sack lunch (next time I'll bring my own - though the apple and cookie were tasty) and I plugged in the movie, I was out like the light.

Sometime around 5, Nurse Jeanne informed us we still had another two hours of infusion time.
What could we say? Obviously, nothing was bothering me and Mr. Bon was engrossed in Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand. Better to go with the process than add to the stress. As if we had a choice.

By 8pm we were back home - getting much needed hugs from the kids and throwing together left overs from the super-fun family barbecue the day before.

Oddly enough, though there was a giant clock in the room staring at us the whole day, time really didn't stand still. In fact, the day seemed to slip right by.

Maybe that's where I lost that day.