Thursday Regulars

Today was another chemo treatment, preceded by a visit with Jerry. Unfortunately, he was not quite himself today.

No awe of me.

No compliments.

I was expecting something, needing something, really. But, alas, just a normal dr./patient exchange. I asked him about a few issues I am having and then asked "would these be caused by the taxol?" He responded "probably. Yes. I think the taxol." Did not do much to inspire my confidence, I must say. Then, when I went upstairs for the infusions, I had to wait quite awhile because Jerry had not sent up the drug orders. Odd.

Some good news, though. First is that, according to Jerry, the doctors like to give at least three weeks between the end of chemo and the beginning of radiation. That will mean a later finish date, but a break will be good. Also, when I asked him about the port in my chest and how long it will have to stay, Jerry said the port can come out as soon as chemo is done. WOO HOO!

But let me tell you about the waiting room. The Thursday regulars were there. Eleanor came in with her son. She is an old(er) lady who wears a bright blue turban...every week. I would guess she is in her late 70s (sorry, Eleanor. If you are by some remote chance reading this, I apologize if I am way off on your age. So hard to tell, isn't it?) Silky man was there, too. I can't quite figure out if he is a patient or if he comes with someone else. He is "silky man" because he is obviously wearing a wig, but it is most definitely a woman's wig/hairstyle. And it is very silky. The bangs a are a bit short, though. I am tempted to bring my wigs for him.

In the infusion room, there is a very sweet old lady getting her treatment with her adult son at her side. Seems the classic. Her son may be the one who never leaves home and can't keep a job. But he is there supporting his Momma.

I had "dancing legs" today. The benadryl made me very antsy. Couldn't keep my legs still. I asked the nurse about feeling so edgy, and she explained it was probably the benadryl. I had assumed it was caused by the steroids, but apparently not. She said that next time they'll cut down on the benadryl and see if that helps. Antsy is not good when you have a 1 inch needle in your chest.

To pass the time, I made it through Metro's 20 - 50 year population and employment growth prediction summary, AND Congressman Schrader's federal stimulus package summary. Great reading. End result of both: lots of people coming, not so many jobs coming, and the U.S. Government bleeding dollar bills.

Time to leave treatment...3 1/2 hours start to finish. As we left, Eleanor and her son were playing a rousing game of cards.

Jerry still not on track. My orders for the next treatment(s) had not been entered into the computer, which meant I could not get the appointment for next week scheduled. Perhaps scheduling can be done tomorrow.

So the whole afternoon leaves me wondering what the "regulars" think of me.

Do they think it odd that I am the only patient in the room without a wig or a hat? (I do. Think it is odd that, in a cancer/chemo clinic, no one is comfortable being bald. Where else should it be more normal?)

How do they describe me in their blog? Perhaps they don't even know I am there...it has taken me a number of weeks to recognize the "regulars".

Weeks to come out of my miserable world and notice others. Weeks to process the routine and almost get comfortable with it. Weeks to know which nurse is the one to I want to be assigned to. Weeks of counting. Weeks of crying. Weeks of dread. But now, weeks of hope. Because my God is a God who offers hope for the hopeless.

4 of 12 treatments done. 8 to go.

Hope
Strength
Courage

Because He commands it. And He provides it.