I knew the dreaded date: Feb 2 was coming up soon. I thought maybe we'd just skip it. In fact, we almost did skip it because of the so-called snowstorm. The day started off well. I got up to a winter wonderland, and was feeling pretty damn good. I had survived my first month of this BS pretty well, so I was gearing down for this month. I actually wore jeans to the hospital. For those of you who know me well, that was miracle in itself. I also wore my "Fuck Cancer" shirt. Well it actually says "F--- Cancer". Same difference. Some people gave me strange looks...and others (especially in the brain centre) thought it was awesome. The social coordinator pointed out her bracelet, which says: "Fucking Cancer". Amazing. I'm getting one. Maybe a tattoo. Anyways, I wore that shirt (my little bro gave it to me <3), so here we go!
Before I go into my day, I first walked into PMH, and there was a little show going on - piano, singer and all these chairs set up for patients. Ok, it was a nice touch, but do they think that's going to make people forget they have cancer?! Whatever. Anyways, when we got to the hospital, the lineup for the blood lab was short. Another first. I was also getting only one vial drawn for the blood count. I've never had one vial drawn in my life. Ever. I'm feeling like this is going to be a good day. I put pressure on the gauze as always, and as I'm making my way back over to my Mom, I notice that I've bled right through the gauze. Mayday. What the hell is going on??!!! As a science student, I've studied what happens when your platelets tank, but never experienced it. Until today. Platelets tank = you bleed!! So I knew before I saw the oncologist that my platelets had tanked. Common bone marrow. That's when things went down hill.
I made my way up to the brain tumour centre, which looks seriously like a hotel lobby. Hardwood floors, plush furniture, two waiting rooms complete with TV, oh, and a tea/coffee bar, and mood lighting. I'm sitting, watching the snow fall, waiting for my 2:15pm appointment, and I begin to realize why I hate my visits. First, going back to the hospital for an MRI, blood work or an oncology appointment is like a slap in the face. Reality hits you like a mac truck. Possibly 10. You go on with your life as "normal", and you feel fine, except it's all a lie. I'm not fine, and so each month when I have to go back, I feel the weight of the fight I'm supposed to battle. I fight I feel should not be mine. And I begin to wonder if I can make it through the next 10 cycles. And of course, I know I have too, because I have no other option. Second, I take a glance around the room, and there are some very sick people at the brain centre. Some are dealing with treatments like heroes, some you can see are struggling, others are proud of their new hair, and some are just shells of the person they once were. I begin to wonder who these people are, what there lives are like, are they married, do they have children...and how we sadly all share something in common: cancer. Fucking cancer. Excuse my french.
The secretary weighed me (they base the chemo dosing on weight), and apparently I've gained 8 lbs. 8 freakin' lbs???!!!! I think the secretary might have been drunk. It's not the weight that bothers me, I've never been a chick who was OCD about her weight. What bothers me is that I've always been fit, I've been running and gymin it for years. I felt fit. I felt good. And for those of you who understand the running addiction, you understand that if you don't run for a week, you feel gross. Like you've gained 600 lbs. However, it seems unreasonable to have gained 8 lbs in a month. I eat broccoli and drink green tea, gimme a break!
I wait forever to see my oncologist, who has the emotional capacity of a pea (My Mom had to clarify that I spelt this p-e-a, not p-e-e!! Hahaha!). Finally, he comes in and says "Hi, feeling good through the last month? You're blood work looks good, we're going to start round 2. Any questions?" Umm ok wow. Thanks. He increased my Temodar dose to 310mg this month (from 235mg last month). Well hold onto your hats! Oh, and my driver's license has been officially revoked for a year. O-M-G. I'm going to go freakin' IN-sane! I feel like a 17 yr old teenager, asking their parents to drive them to the movies. Lame. All my blood work was good, my levels had all dropped, but still within the normal range. My platelets tanked approximately 200 something in a month. If they drop another 200 this month, I'm going to have negative platelets. A medical miracle no doubt.
Finally, filling prescription at the PMH pharmacy is an administrative nightmare. My insurance plan doesn't cover chemo drugs because they cost a gazillion dollars, so I had to apply for more coverage. Apparently, a letter needs to be sent confirming I've maxed it out or something like that. So I couldn't get my drugs covered. Pain in my ass. Nurse Ratchet aka Mom is going to get on that.
That was my day. I'm exhausted. I start round 2 tomorrow. Let's do this.
