Round 3 and Round 4 and Gratitude

I haven't been updating about my infusions. In the time leading up to one, I'm trying not to think about it. I only have a short window afterwards before I start to feel pretty crappy and don't really have the energy for getting a blog post out. Not to mention the chemo-brain that has me thinking every thought three times in a row. I'll presume on your forgiveness.

Cytoxan headache of death. Round 3.

For round 3 my mommy-kins came into town and saved the day. She cooked, cleaned, taxied me to run errands, taught the boy to bake bread, made us a headboard, and listened to me wax poetic about my most gnarly chemo side-effects. Just having her around made me feel peppier.

matching shirts, matching haircuts, and the cute, tufted headboard momma made. 

Yesterday I had my last infusion of adrithromycin/cytoxan. I would say I'm glad to be done with such pain-in-the-ass drugs, but I'm not done. It's the side effects that get ya. I feel fine now, but I won't tomorrow and this time I don't know how long I'll be out of commission. It's a special sort of torture to have to do this to yourself right after you start to feel better. The day before, I went crazy cooking and cleaning and drank an entire bottle of Riesling. I felt like I was about to go to prison (25th hour and shit). I got maybe 3 days of relative health and energy at the end of round 3. I broke. I knew I couldn't face my last infusion of 'Red Death' alone. That's where your other family comes in!

I had only just mentioned to my mom how scared and upset I was about round 4 when I got a text asking what time I need to be picked up and what trashy magazines I wanted. Bridget had already taken off work to come with me. Family helps even when you won't ask. And knows me well enough not to leave any room for me to try to politely decline .

My "I don't have cancer" disguise. 

I'm going to get on my soap box for a second: Oncology doctors and nurses these days like to throw around the line "tell us about your side effects. there's no need to suffer". They like to make it sound like they have a drug for everything that'll get you down during chemo. Having heard this for over a month and finally feeling like I really needed some help in between doses, I came in with my wish-list; Can you help with the crippling fatigue? No. How about the dizziness and body aches? Not really. How about the cognitive straightupdumbness? Sorry. I walked out of there with a mouthwash to help with the sores and a suggestion for a different OTC med to help with bloating and constipation. It's like a drop in the bucket for the things that are actually making my life miserable. I was livid. Stop saying you can help with side effects if, in reality, you can't. Apparently I DO need to suffer and I'd appreciate you just being real with me. Or prescribe me the cocaine and ecstasy that'll really fix me up on those miserable, post-chemo weekends. There's an idea.
Ok. I'm finished ranting.

Bridget looks super cute in my wig!

Round 4 was a fiasco. I won't rehash the entire thing. I got the run-around when I got there, had another substitute oncologist who talked a nice game but ultimately forgot to call in any of my prescriptions, had to sit through an additional hour of pre-meds for my "very positional" (which just means it doesn't work right) chemo port. By the time I rolled out of there I had taken so much Valium to deal with the anxiety and opiates to try to stave off the insane headache I get from cytoxan that I was suuuuper glad to have a ride home.

It's on a freaking pizza tray.

Through it all, I had my shining star by my side. She introduced me to the giant pancake at City Diner which literally gave me a reason to wake up that morning. She let me go on about my boring little life (chemo, my cat, chemo, my boyfriend, cancer, chemo, that one time I went somewhere, chemo, the dog and the cat). Showed me photos and told me stories about babies to keep my mind off things. She bought me an embarrassment of riches in reading materials. She rubbed my back when I cried, held my hand when I almost cried, and even ran to the cafeteria when things were really getting into overtime. She reminded me that this was all for the best, which sometimes you need someone else to say to make you really, truly believe it (at least for a little while). I can never repay the kindness and support and thoughtfulness that Bridget offered me when I so desperately needed it. I'd like to thank her publicly, here, from the very bottom of my heart.

Seriously? Amazing.