I would venture to say that, if there were an award for the person who has done the most to prepare her house, her bed, her hair, her head, her friends, her dreads, her family and meds, I might actually win the prize. While it’s been a few long weeks of waiting, and sometime the emotions ran high, it has given me time to do what I do pretty well: research, study, prepare and execute a plan. And now with the first treatment just 15 hours a way, and the help of the steroids they made me take, I’m down to lysoling the telephones. And then there’s this:
The Night Before Chemo
Twas the night before chemo and all through the house, no one was sleeping, accept for my spouse. I’d taken an Ativan so felt kinda of loose, but no sleep would come – on account of the “juice”.
My mind was a jumble of thoughts and some fear, when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a vision of my oncologist drinking a beer. His sterile white coat was covered in muck. It made me cry out, “Hey, Doc, what the fuck?” He hooked my IV, and said with a smile, “Make yourself comfy, you’ll be here awhile.”
More rapid than eagles the medicines came. Desperate for nurses, I called them by name: “On Taxol, on Carbo, Herceptin, Perjeta, On Nausea, On Dry Mouth, Hey, you in the sweata!”
They all arrived quickly and made me feel safe. I knew that my treatment was off to the race. My chemical friends had a mission to do: to kill every bad cell and not hurt the new.
As I start on my journey, I promise to fight. Thank you all for your prayers, and to all a good night.