Last night was my first night in the hospital. At 10pm they finally started my chemo which went fairly well. I was already pumped full of anti-nausea drugs because of the IV pain killer they had given me for my port was making me feel "woozey" and "very pukey."
In order, please! I checked in at noon and then there was a lot of sitting and waiting. I think this was particularly difficult for my parents who mostly chatted amongst themselves. I was being sullen, angry, and spacey, and NO I did not want to have any conversation that began with "so this is scary, huh?" Fuck that. I'm still not ready to cry in front of people.
Point for my parents: they gave me lots of space
10 points against my parents: somehow my mom and one of my friends drafted an email saying people should call my MOM if they wanted to see/talk to me and that she was like screening everyone. Fuck that. Seriously. Fuck that. I didn't SAY that. I didn't ask for that. It seems PARTICULARLY inappropriate seeing as how my friends have been mind blowingly awesome about all of this. More awesome than people who are related to me, in fact. So anyway, you can CALL me. If I can't answer, I won't. I love nice voicemails.
So anyway, lovely afternoon of waiting. Lots of needles and sad looks. They made me ride around in a GURNEY for Christ's sake--like an invalid. There are sick people here everywhere and they forced me to change into the sick person costume. Have I mentioned yet that I am NOT sick? Fuck this. Anyway around 4 they put in my Hickman Catheter/Port/Central Line/whatever. It's a buried IV that they slide in at my neck and then tunnel down to a big artery and then push it out right over my boob. Hot. I am going to take pictures later. Other high lights of the afternoon were the FOUR separate attempts to get an IV started on my arm.
Today: my Hickman is bugging me because it's a tube under my skin. I feel like throwing up because I just had tons of nasty chemicals pumped through my blood and it's a side effect of them killing billions of totally healthy cells. I probably won't throw up because the anti-nausea stuff is pretty decent at "controlling" nausea but I can't think of single thing I would want to eat. Possibly ever again.
Right now I'm reveling in some crazy freedom. The nurse left me alone to shower and she unhooked my Hickman from its damn IV fluids. I can walk around unimpaired! I have a new little buddy--my IV tower--and he comes with me when I need to go to the bathroom, or turn on the DVD player, or get a book off the table on the far side of the room.
Here is the thing: this really fucking sucks. I hate it here and I'm pissed that I have to go through this. I know that it's all going to get worse for the next month and it's hard to know what to do with any of these feelings or any of this free time. Have I mentioned I feel like throwing up? Not enough to do it of course...
Gratitude of the day: Awesome nursing staff. They rock.
3 years ago