I’m back in the hospital, and if all goes as planned this will be the FINAL TIME for chemo!
I’ve been through / will go through several bags of chemo drugs; Rituxan, ifosfamide, etoposide, cytarabine and I’m also getting “premeds” which counter the bad effects of the chemo; Mesna (to protect my bladder) and special Dexemethesone eyedrops to protect my eyes.
So many drugs, so little time.
As generally happens, the first few days of a chemo admission feel pretty darned good; I’m getting fluids, drugs and food at regular intervals, and flying high from my ‘resting days’ when my blood counts and platelets have to reach a certain point before I’m even ALLOWED to return for more chemo. These days are as good as I ever feel during this whole cancer adventure.
After 2 or 3 days into a Chemo Admission, though, I’ll start feeling it all over; I’ll be exhausted, in pain in odd places and generally in a bad mood. (Just like usual…)
By the time I’m ready to be discharged, I’m a mess. Exhausted, dizzy, light headed and SO ready to get the hell out of Dodge! And of course, THAT’S when the exit process of this beaurocracy kicks into gear and we can add another couple of hours for a parade of ‘sign off’ folks to come and see me and see that I’m okay, and they can let me go.
I’ve only been in a day and already I’m anticipating my frustration at the exit process. Now THAT is some high dose Dex working right there.
I’ll be home in time for Thanks giving, but I definitely won’t be cooking. I’m basing the prediction on how I’ll be feeling on my reaction to my second chemo round (which is very similar to my current round, drug wise) and the fact that my last day here (Tuesday) I’ll be getting an interthecal, and we KNOW how I love getting that tiny needle up my spine to delivery MORE chemo. (That generally sets me back for more than a day, I’m supposed to lay flat on my back to avoid spinal headaches.)
Max comes home on Wednesday and will be having early dinner on Thursday with his oldest friend and their family, then he’ll return chez Landy-Modesitt for an evening Thanksgiving dinner with us. This is new for us, usually we eat mid-afternoon, but we’re changing it up this year.
Andy’s the chef, and since I’m in the hospital they’ll be the head shopper and planner, too. Andy is a night owl, and likes to go to bed rather late and get up even later, so it seems like a recipe for disaster to tell them, “Thou SHALT get the turkey in the oven by 10am…) because, really, IS that a rule?
I’ll help as I can, mainly by convincing Andy that buying ready-made foods is ABSOLUTELY EXCELLENT! There’s no need to mash potatoes, make gravy, or make desserts when so many excellent options are available. Yes, I have a stable of dishes that I make each year, and I’ll make them again next year, but this year we’ll have a very special menu for the family dealing with chemo and mourning.
I think we’re all a bit scared about how rough this Thanksgiving will be.
It’s only taken me over six admissions to hit upon a recipe for a much more positive experience; this time I brought my own pillow and quilt, and THIS has allowed me to have one of the better night’s sleep at St. John’s. The thin cotton blankets they use here are SO puny, even stacking several of them up means a lot of fussing and rearranging. My good ol’ target quilt works beautifully and STAYS PUT for a nice night’s sleep.
Oh, and my OWN GOWN! I’ve foresworn the hospital gown, I have a gown of my own I’ve altered to allow very easy access to my port, and it’s working great! The nurses all know me quite well now, and they’re happy to let me wear a night gown that doesn’t do double duty as a pup tent.
And pillows? I need my pillow from home, and I have it now, and I’m happy. And I didn’t even make Kathleen drive 25 miles out of her way to go get it…
Later today I’m going to have Andy help me rearrange my room (they’re SO used to me doing this at the hospital now, but – honestly – I do have better ideas for how to make the room flow and give the nurses more space to do their work!)