|A man and his lady friend stepped into an elevator.|
"Wow Sarah, I haven't seen you wear khaki in at least 15 years!"
And you're right.
The other half of you are thinking:
"Wow Sarah, don't you think a 1 inch inseam is a little short for someone your age?"
And you're also right, but I
And a select few of you are looking at the mop on top of my head and calculating that I haven't washed my hair or bathed since Tuesday night and you're also right. And guess what, that mop is going home and straight back to bed and won't get washed until tomorrow. Or the next day. Or maybe even the next day. This round was really rough. Like "I haven't even plucked my eyebrows since Wednesday morning" rough. And this is coming from a girl who keeps an extra set of tweezers in her truck just in case I have time to kill at a stop light.
Oh well, I
Sexy six means only one thing, I'm half way there. But for some reason, I'm not looking at that with the optimism I should be.
"Half way done!!!" is sounding more like "I still have to go through this shizzle six more times?" I'm owning Debbie Downer on this one because I feel like Debbie Downer right now.
Round six started before they even hooked me up to any drug. As has become my norm, I started feeling nauseated the minute I walked in the oncology building. I did my usual blood-work-doctor-blood-work-results-pick-a-recliner-and-wait-for-your-drugs routine. But my mind knew what was coming and as I mentioned in my previous post, I started wondering if I should move that white trash can a little closer. I tried to distract myself with blogging, but finally realized it was a losing battle and I needed to just lay back, close my eyes and try to not visualize throwing up in front of the 20 other people sitting in my alcove.
In reality, you'd think a group of chemo patients and their caregivers would probably be the most understanding group to puke in front of if you had to. My new nurse picked up on my drastic change in demeanor and as my bags emptied, made haste for my pump and even told us to go ahead and leave, foregoing any future appointment setting which is protocol. She knew I needed to get the hell out of Dodge as quickly as I could and I am grateful for her being so observant. I'm not sure my previous male nurse would have picked up on how I felt or thought to send us on our way pronto and taken care of the dirty work on our behalf. We women, we're just special like that.
I was so grateful to get out of there and instantly felt a little better. But in the end, nausea always brings me to my knees and I spent the trip over to my mother's house a weepy mess. Knowing that you are going to be sick for days on end gets old really fast, and I was already a beaten women. For Pete's sake, it took me 3 years to agree to have another baby for this very same reason.
|Bedside view: water, crackers, nausea meds, puke bucket.|
The usual plan has been for Kyle to pick me up from Casa de la Madre on Friday, take me to get disconnected from my pump and take me back home. This is where we smack down with our awesome elevator love fest. I'm usually starting to mend enough that I can tolerate the chaos that most refer to as "home", but knowing I was getting a Neupogen shot with my disconnect, and knowing how special that shot makes me feel, it was easily agreed upon that I would just go back to my mother's and stay. Apparently I was drooling and kept my shades on the whole time, so Kyle knew I wasn't fit for motherhood yet. I can honestly say I don't remember too much of that experience as I felt so sick. Yes, I managed to snap us doing the elevator tango, but that's really about it.
On Sunday, I got my second Neupogen shot, but not until the afternoon. That meant all those fun side effects would be hitting me in the middle of the night. That's great when one of the side effects is a general feeling of flu-like crappiness, but not great when the other side effect I seem to suffer from is reminiscent of a SNL sketch regarding a certain cereal.
If you know of which certain cereal I am referring, pat yourself on the back and move on with a good laugh. If you don't, Google "Colon Blow" and delight yourself in some SNL greatness. Rest in peace, Phil.
Granted, I'm exaggerating here. But needless to say, I was awake and miserable in the wee hours of Monday morning making my 8:15am appointment for blood work a non-option as I was left to sleep in and recover from the misery and nausea of the night before.
I know my doctor is trying to find the right balance and schedule for my chemo and Neupogen. He wants my blood counts to bounce back faster and so can stay on that every-two-week schedule I'm striving for, but this weekend was rough. Roughest of all. Combining chemo and Neupogen is my double whammy. But like magic, my Monday