June 1st is my 4th session. Don is to take me and Stacy will join us, but unfortunately Don can't get out of work. Thankfully, Stacy graciously accepts the responsibility of taking me to chemo herself.
When it was first discovered that I have cancer, and we were told I have to have chemo every other week, Don had insisted he will take me to every single appointment. I insisted that he not be so adamant and that it's OK for someone else to take me from time to time because I figure he'll be bored out of his skull after the first round of chemo. I didn't want to be a "burden" on my husband.
I now say screw that. It's about me this time. Not about how someone else may feel about taking care of me. I'm no longer going to predict the future and tell you that you'll wish you hadn't offered to help. Especially my husband. If you ask me, I'll tell you that it's important that he be there. Of course, there may be some unfortunate situations where he can't be there, shit happens, but if you give me a choice I will chose for him to be there every time.
This is one time that he can't be there. I am disappointed, yes, but not mad at him. His hands are tied. Fortunately, since we had planned on Stacy going with us, she is able to step in for Don. And what a great stand-in she is. From the instant I get in her car, we are chatting away. Talking about anything and everything. So much so that we don't notice the huge traffic jam in front of us until we are thick in the middle of it. But we pay no mind and keep talking. We've left the house early at 6:15 a.m. for such instances like this to occur so we're not stressed for time.
However, we eventually start to realize that in 45 minutes we have gone less than 3 miles. It's a horrific accident. There are 3 helicopters looming over the Hollywood freeway. Just past the Highland exit 3 cars met by accident. Apparently there is a fatality involved because as we finally inch past the scene, there are firemen holding a large yellow tarp around a small SUV. I say a quick prayer (and an act of contrition because 2 miles back I was bitching about idiot drivers in L.A.).
We eventually get to Kaiser hospital 5 minutes before my appointment. Thank goodness we left early that morning. I once again am lucky and get a private room. I also get my favorite RN, Grace. Stacy watches with wonder as I get shot up with cocktails and even comes to my aid, hunting down my nurse, when the burning veins overcome me. I've been injected with Benadryl by the time I get my Dacarbazine IV drip so I am nodding off as Alex pays a visit. I can barely talk now so I sleep. Finally, by 12 noon I am all done and Stacy and I head back to the valley to have lunch at Nicola's. I'm famished and order a big salad, side of spaghetti with marinara, and eat several generous helpings of the complimentary flat bread. My belly is happy and Stacy takes me home. Thank you, Stacy!
Don comes home that evening and I let him know that yes, it is important to me that he be there every time. I feel safe when he's there. I feel protected, loved and cared for. Yes, I do need him there. The chemo is starting to get scary and I need my hero.
June 14th is my 5th session. Don takes me. We leave the house early, 6:30, in case there may be traffic but it's smooth sailing. We stop at the nice new cafeteria in the main hospital for breakfast of which mine consists of 6 strips of bacon and a 1/2 cup of scrambled eggs. I could have had all bacon but didn't want to look like an animal. We go upstairs to Oncology to sign in around 7:45 a.m. and they call my name, take my vitals and assign me to a room fairly quickly. And my appointment wasn't until 9:00 a.m.! But Grace had told me the last time to just show up early, and once again she is my RN!
Grace inserts the IV into my right arm and almost instantly there is pan and soreness. I keep insisting that it's bothersome so she finally removes it and sticks me in the left arm. As soon as the saline IV drip starts, my veins start to hurt...and that's just saline. Grace gets me a heating pad to put on my arm so the veins open up. It helps and she pushes the first 3 chemos into me. It's quite uncomfortable. Then the dreaded Dacarbazine comes along and once the IV starts dripping into me I am in searing pain. My veins are cooked and screaming. I think this is the first time I cry. We slow the drip tremendously and Don and I are finally out of there 2 hours later.
We go home, I go to bed and sleep for two days.
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