Close to Home

Today was Cycle #5, Week 2. As I waited in the waiting room between the blood draw and infusion, there was a bit of a commotion at the front desk. And older woman with a strong Caribbean accent was screaming at the nice woman who was manning the desk today. "Talk to my daughter! Talk to my daughter!" Requests for her to wait until the reception person had finished entering something into the computer made no difference. The screaming continued. Her doctor came out and tried to calm her, explaining that the protocol was that a patient always needed to show ID to register. "Talk to my daughter! Talk to my daughter!" pushing the phone to Dr C. And Dr. C did talk to the daughter, but then this woman began to slump backwards like she was going to faint. Another staff member brought a wheelchair. And this person noticed that there was a license in the woman's wallet. Seventeen questions later and the patient handed over the license. She was registered and headed to the doctor's waiting room, but refused the wheelchair. She wanted to walk.

About 10 minutes later I heard her voice. "No, No" and then a primal scream. And I began to cry. She had collapsed. The intercom system confirmed what I had heard "Code Blue, Code Blue. Patient Response Team. Gawky 9. Waiting Room." White coats descended from my the infusion room, from the other floors, and Dr. C could be heard directing the response.

That is our reality. At any moment, that woman could be us. There will come a day when I am tired, or dehydrated, or sick, or responding poorly to treatment, and we will be the person on the floor needing the response team.

The fact that this woman was not a nice person doesn't change any of that.

I wept for this woman's moment of weakness and for all of us who will be that woman at some point in the future.

Romper Picture

Another romper picture. Hanging out in the garden after picking some raspberries.

Romper

I should post a picture of a romper. If this is what is going to fill my time, then pictures are almost required.

My cutie in a romper I made for her. This was the second of four.

Cycle 5

Yea, I know. I haven't been good about updating this blog. I don't actually think anyone is reading it though, so at least no one is disappointed in me.

The thing about chemo for life is chemo for life. As with anything, a routine develops. This is what I do on Tuesdays. I go to the hospital. They draw blood. Every fourth week I see the doctor. And then, I sit in a chair and they pump stuff in to me. Some weeks everything is running late. Other weeks everything runs like clockwork.

The other parts of my life have had highs and lows. All of my clients have now transitioned to other developers. They are each happy with the choice that they made. I am still available to assist if needed, but I am no longer a professional developer. I am no longer a professional anything.

This transition has been emotionally hard. In fact, for a bit I tried to cling to that me but I have changed. The Taxol makes me a little anxious, an anxiety that is triggered by clients needing something, guests being irritating, and any deadline, self-imposed or not. It is time to stop. I have made the right decision. And yet, I still didn't send out those final bills. And didn't send them out. And was anxious about not having sent them out. Today, they went. Final Invoice. Done.

My doctor is smartly concerned about the toxicity of Taxol and the effects it is having on my body. She was not interested in continuing this drug if it weren't working, so last week I was rolled into a tube for a PET scan. Cool new machine! Still have to fast for 8 hours before the scan, and they still fill me with radioactive waste an hour before the tube, but the time in the tube is now only 12 minutes! Twelve minutes. My first PET lasted 45 endlessly-long minutes.

Dr. C called me that same day with the results. Improvement. Most of the tumors were stable, but the ones that can make real trouble with my spine are all reduced. This set up the beginning of Cycle #5. Did that yesterday.

So how to fill all the hours in my week? Of course, there are the AirBNB turnovers, making of breakfast items, and chatting with the guests. Two days a week are Olivia time. But that still a fair amount of time to fill.

I have been sewing. So far, four rompers and a dress for Olivia, and one almost done dress for me. I have very few bits of clothing that I can wear and have the port accessed, so I am making one. This is not rocket science, and my mind will probably go to mush, but at least I have something filling my time that improves our lives.