jenny's belly

What it's like

My brother's best friend (also named Jeff) and his fiancee sent me a beautiful vase with flowers. You know how I love to share the pictures with everyone!

So tomorrow starts my final cycle of chemotherapy. I've felt crappy today so I'll probably get some fluids along with everything else. Its been awhile since I described what its like to get chemo, so here we go...

First I head to the infusion floor's check-in desk. I hand over my blue card which has my name, birthday, Dana Farber number and Brigham & Women's number on it. The desk makes a hospital wrist band using my card (always making me confirm my birth date), and if my nurse is ready for me I'm handed a yellow piece of paper and told I "can go back now." Otherwise I sit and wait for them to call me. They only call first names, supposedly for privacy. I'm used to there being 800 other Jennifers whereever I go, but not-so-oddly I've only once had an issue with there being two of us waiting. I'm almost always the youngest person in the waiting area.

So off to my nurse I go, winding through nurses stations to the back area where I hand over the yellow sheet of paper to a medical assistant. This is usually Jerry. Jerry weighs me, takes my blood pressure, temperature and pulse, checks my wrist band and asks if I'm in any pain. He then points me to a lovely blue recliner where I wait for my nurse.

Sometimes you have to wait a loooong time for your nurse. Sometimes she's ready. If I'm having blood drawn first, like I will tomorrow, she's usually ready with the needle and tubing. She feels around on my chest for the exact location of the port (located just under the skin near my shoulder) sprays it with cold spray to numb the skin, and pushes the needle in. It usually doesn't hurt at all.

After the blood draw I go upstairs to my doctors offices. I check in showing my wrist band and this time I'm given some green paperwork. I walk across the hall with my paperwork and put it in a waiting basket. Eventually I'll be called for vital signs (if I haven't already had them taken) and I'll be shown to a room to wait for my doctor. Sometimes this takes 15 minutes, sometimes its 2 hours. Doctors and nurses don't keep appointments like they do at a general care office. They'll sit and talk to you all day long if you need it. It throws off the schedule, but when its your turn, you don't feel like you have their attention for only five seconds.

The doctor will chat with me, he'll look over my bloodwork and do a mini exam. I have to be honest now, and say what has hurt over the past week or how bad I've felt or how often I've been to the bathroom. Dignity: out the window.

After the doctor's appointment it's back to the influsion floor where I check back in showing my wrist band and hope my nurse is ready for me. No yellow paper this time. Once I'm in the chair my nurse usually comes over to chat with me, and I tell her the same things I told the doctor (mom fills in the blanks). She pages the doctor if I need extra meds or fluids or whatever. After awhile she comes back with bags of clear fluids, some with drugs, some with just water and sodium. Tomorrow, I'll get Zofran (fantastic for nausea) by drip, saline by drip, and eventually, the chemo itself. The nurse checks my wrist band and makes sure my Dana Farber number matches the bags and sirynges sent up from the pharmacy.

And then I just sit there and wait for it all to pump into me and be overwith. Sometimes I get a heated blanket and drift off to sleep. Sometimes I watch TV. Sometimes I'm amazing and can do cross-stitch or read. Usually I stare out the window. When I look around at other people, I see they're all doing it too.

Sometimes the appointment is for 1/2 hour or so, but its usually an hour or two. Some people have to be there all day. Most people look like me-- you wouldn't know they were sick except that they're in the chair. We look tired most of the time, my cancer friends and I, but not really sick. We do well blending in to society. :)

posted by Jen at 6:28 PM