Our friend Angel joins Don and I for the ride. Lucky for us she is really easy going about it all and very accommodating because there are delays throughout the day. No problem, she says. She'll just reschedule her Pilates lesson for the next day. That's cool. Already having to do something I don't like, in a hospital no less, I don't need the stress of having to make sure those around me are OK. Angel is the perfect tag along guest.
We arrive early, around 7:30 a.m., eat breakfast in the nice new cafeteria (and I run into the surgeon who did my back several years ago) and share the elevator ride with my Oncology doctor. I mention to him that when I went to Kaiser in Woodland Hills to take my lab tests Saturday, they had informed me that his standing order expired. There was no way to get a hold of him during the weekend, so I figured I would tell him when I arrived Monday. I thought perhaps I was wrong in thinking I had to take a blood test every time before chemo; maybe just the later sessions. I am wrong. Good thing he is in the elevator because Dr. Glowalla is able to immediately order labs and I am later sent down once I check in for my chemo. The people at the lab are not busy, at least not with patients. They are busy talking about their weekend, however. So it's a good 1/2 hour before I am sent back up to chemo. Even Oncology calls down to the lab to see where I am. The techs finally sense the urgency I've been trying to explain as they are still gabbing away with a needle in my arm. I get back to the Oncology waiting room and Don tells me the second I left I was called. I blurt out "son of a bitch" and now the gals behind the check-in counter are laughing. They must feel some sort of compassion for me because they call the RNs to let them know I'm waiting. But it's still another waiting game because they're now checking in all these other patients AND they want my test results before assigning me anywhere. Crap. FINALLY they call my name. I'm now aggravated and antsy because I'm afraid I won't get a private room but I'm lucky! Now I'm finally able to relax...or so I think.
We are still waiting for the blood tests. If White Blood Cell (WBC) counts are too low, you can be sent home with no chemo treatment. WBCs are responsible for fighting infection. If they are too low, you can get dangerously sick. If my temperature gets above 101 degrees, I have to check into the ER. Nobody likes that. Unless you have Munchhausen. Dr. Glowalla comes in a little while later and announces that they are low but he's going to go ahead with chemo. I'll just be sent home with Neupogen and will have to give myself daily injections for a week to bring the counts back up. Ick. Oh well, it is what it is.
So we now have the thumbs up to move forward and the nurse can NOW order the "medication." They don't order the chemo until they know the patient is showing up and having treatment. Apparently the pharmacists have control issues. The nurses also have to convince the pharmacist that we can proceed despite the low blood count. And I think even my doctor has to convince them it's OK so they can release the "medication." Wow. So much red tape.
While we wait for the medicine to arrive, Angel is asking the RN, who is Grace by the way, questions about the chemo and how it's administered. Simple questions, really, like why they give me an IV of saline fluid while giving me chemo? But Grace is a little explicit in her explanations and the words once again are not designed to make me or my guests comfortable. Grace explains that they dilute the medicine (poison) with saline because otherwise it "chews up the veins" because it's "corrosive." Hmm, that must be why it burns and also why you need to keep your forearm warm so your veins don't constrict. Nice. Angel politely requests that Grace stop using words like "chew" and "corrosive." She's funny. Grace is good-natured about it all. We are starting to like her again. How can you not like this face?
As we wait for the medicine to arrive, the natives start to get restless. Someone finds a surgical glove. I'm not sure if it's Don or Angel who start it all, but the show begins! Don starts goofing with the glove, blowing it up, pulling it over his head and blowing it up more through his nose. This gets Angel going and now I am pulling my camera out to take pictures since I'm trapped in my chair with an IV stuck in my arm. Something about the camera's presence now makes the natives even goofier and here is the evidence of what I bear witness to:
The medicine begins and it's not so scary this time because I know what to anticipate. We are continually goofing off that I don't even notice when Grace is finished with one medicine and starting another one. Before I know it we are on our third medication, the Bleomycin. This is the stuff that gives me the rash on my left arm. At the last session the IV was inserted into my left arm so that would make sense to me why my left arm would break out. My left arm is now once again breaking out into a rash. Strange thing though, is that the IV is in my RIGHT arm this time! Totally bizarre. I'm starting to scratch fiendishly so Grace gets some injectable Benedryl to calm me down. See the bright red patch on my upper arm near the shoulder?
Strange how it's only one side and apparently consistently the same side. Grace has no explanation. Must be some other medical anomaly thing. That's why I'm staring blankly at Grace as she offers no clue as to why I break out only in one spot. Grace shoots my up with the Benedryl and everyone waits for me to fall asleep. I fight it for a long time, (I'm having too much fun with everyone) but finally start to pass out from the Benedryl. Grace is amused at my slurred speech before I drift off. She says I sound like I have a mouthful of peanut butter. I try to dispute her observation but can't seem to put my defense together into audible words.
Soon we are down to the last medicine which is the one administered through an IV drip and takes the longest; about an hour. Alex is visiting with us but I'm still asleep. Angel entertains him while Don is off visiting some young guy he met in the hallway who is also there for treatment. I think they hit it off pretty well because he is talking to Don about changing his chemo schedule so that we're both here on the same week. That's my Don; making friends wherever he goes. I wake up shortly afterward and we chat with Alex and learn from him what his patients are like. How some make demands because they know what's best for them because their uncle's cousin's wife's sister's neighbor has the same hip problem or they read about it on the Internet (yikes! - guilty as charged!) or saw an article, etc. Poor Alex. Doctors don't get much respect. At least not in the doctor/patient environment. Now I see why he is reluctant to offer his opinion. He will never give an unsolicited opinion, that's for sure. I could learn something from him.
My session is over but we've all forgotten that Don has to go to the pharmacy to get my injectable medicine to take home. So it's another 20 minute delay for him to run to the pharmacy to put the order through and get it. Angel and I continue chatting with Alex until it's time for him to leave and continue his work day in clinic. Clinic is when he spends his time with patient visits instead of the OR, replacing hips. I bet he likes to be in the OR more than with troublesome patients. No wonder why doctors just want to get out of the exam room as fast as possible. I've been guilty of driving my doctors crazy when I just thought I was being helpful. I'm embarrassed to admit this but I used to email research studies about low potassium levels in Capuchin Monkeys or something stupid like that to my Nephrologist. Poor Dr. Crooks would just politely thank me for my input and participation in the field of medicine. Poor, dear man. I am now starting to learn that I DO NOT need to run the show where I lack even an infinitesimal amount of expertise.
We finally get the medicine, Grace shows Don how to give me the shot, and we are on our way. Of course, we experience another delay because we forget what floor we parked the truck on and once again I know everything so we go up to the 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th floor before Don begs me to believe him when he says we are lower, like on the 3rd floor. He's right of course. But hey, it's not my fault. I'm still dopey from the Benedryl. Serves Don right for listening to a sloth with peanut butter in her mouth.
We dine at Zankou Chicken, Angel and I pass out in the truck, and before we know it we are home. I nap for a while, chat on the phone with my friend Josh, who cracks me up (I need comedy in my life these days - sad people need not apply) pour my nightly glass of wine and make myself a burrito (I'm having wine and spicy food as much as possible before the mouth sores kick in). Life is good and I can't complain.
Not sure if it was the wine, the chemo or the day of antics and wacky company, but I am exhausted and fall to slumber quickly. I sleep well. Thank you God for another beautiful day.
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