jenny's belly

So What's It Like?

I met with my oncologist first thing this morning, which won't be the usual protocol. We talked again about the CT scan and how the guy goofed reading it, and how the endoscopy results came back looking good. He did a mini physical and gave me more prescriptions (ye-haw!). One is to help with any chemo-related nausea and one is for the possible (ugh) fungus in my stomach as seen by the endoscopy biopsies. If this med doesn't work (and I doubt it will) he's going to hook me up with a gastroenterologist. And I have to go back to see my surgeon, Dr. Osteen, but right now he's bicycling in France. I laughed out loud when Dr. Bhargava told me that. I can picture MYSELF bicycling in France right NOW more than I can Dr. Osteen. But I digress...

I met with the study nurse for a few moments, really just so we could iron out my future appointments. I was warned that it was a "ZOO" in the infusion lab.

I was sent down to check in for chemotherapy at about 11:00.

At noon they called me to have blood drawn. Since I have a port-a-cath, I knew they were going to jab me in the chest and not the arm. The area is still sore so I was trying not to be a wreck about it. My chemo nurse, Christin, noted that I still have fluid due to general muscle trauma, but I was glad since she was extra cautious. She sprayed my shoulder with lidocaine to numb the area and put an IV in. In fact, it's still in. Rather uncomfortable if I do say so.

After taking blood I was sent back to wait for my timeslot. The floor was so full of people you'd think they were giving something GOOD away. The waiting room was overflowing and people were standing beyond the check-in area into the elevator banks. INSANE. They didn't come to get me until 2:00pm.

I followed an aide past rows and rows of people in cushy teal blue 'pleather' chairs which could recline into a bed. Nearly everyone had mauve blankets across their laps as if they had been there for days.

The floor is set up a lot like a hospital unit with privacy curtains which can be drawn across, and two bed-chairs to a side, but it's much more compact than a hospital room and not separated into traditional "rooms" but rather "pods" with walls but no doors.

I was seated in my designated chair and waited nervously for Christin to arrive. She spoke to me for a few minutes about how long the procedure would be, chatted with my mother, and disappeared with a "I'll go get your meds" just as my nutritionist Tara arrived. I was able to tell Tara I'd done slightly better with the new meds and was trying to stay away from the things she told me to avoid.

Christin returned with a blue smock over her white jacket as though she was preparing for surgery. This was unexpected and a bit frightening, but I could see she wasn't carrying much. She drew some more blood then connected me to a saline drip. The blood draw doesn't hurt but the saline DOES since it's literally adding salt to a wound.

Most people had chemotherapy meds in IV bags on a drip like my saline. But my chemo meds were in syringes. I only get a little bit since I'm going to get it for 5 days straight. It was actually very quick and we were out of the hospital by 3:00pm.

I mentioned I still have the IV in, which makes sense-- tomorrow they can just hook me back up again without having to jab me. All I can think of is the scene in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta has to jab Uma Thurman in the chest with a needle to re-start her heart. It wasn't that violent (obviously) but it's really my primary thought.

Anyway, I return for chemo every morning tomorrow through saturday and then I'm finished for 3 weeks. I'll just go in on monday mornings to meet with Nina (Dr. Bharvaga's nurse) who will make sure my fluids, blood counts, etc are okay and that I'm coping well with everything.

I think Jeanette mentioned in a comment on my prior post that it's almost like the chemo and radiation are set up to destroy your body and YOU have to be STRONGER than it is. I really feel that this is true. I'm sure the chemo is killing all kinds of stuff inside me already, and not all of it is bad. Or at best, almost none of it is bad. Lots of good cells are being knocked off as innocent bystanders, but nutrition, rest, and a positive outlook will help build me back up again! :)

Nana Update: I visited her today as part of my grand hospital tour. She is doing well- her heartbeat has been stabilized, as has her blood pressure. They are talking about giving her a stress test tomorrow and letting her go home if she passes. I just hope the stress test she takes is different from the ones I've done (running on a treadmill... my grandmother is 81!) :)

posted by Jen at 8:15 PM