On to the third round. Remember, there are six rounds total and two sessions per round. Yesterday was a left-handed day. Therefore, I was already preparing myself for some arm discomfort. My doctor added an anti-allergen before the final chemo drug so that it would minimize my chances of getting another reaction. My bag was packed, my toast was consumed, and my ice-cubes for the red devil were placed in the thermos. Mom and I are getting really good at this routine. And I must say, my outfit was on point! Thanks to Mrs. Cardwell’s box, I was ready to face the chemo in “Kim Style”.
Mom asked me why I wear the crazy outfits. I told her, “The situation is just ridiculous. I am 31 and having to go to chemotherapy. I would like my outfits to match the situation. I want to walk down the street and have people share in my perplexity. A WTF is going on, if you will So every person who gives me the Uruguayan side-eye is feeling exactly how I feel.” Plus, I think it brightens up daycare and gives the nurses something to smile about.
My nurse put my IV in my left hand under my ring finger. My vein was being a little pisser, so she had to move the tube around several times. I already loath IVs. They give me the willies. Moving around the tube wasn’t helping. But she finally got it and the regime started. My brother says the red devil looks like Kool Aid. He told me he would give me a dollar if I said “Oh, Yeah” after it finished going in. We didn’t get the video, but we did get a picture.
I was BEYOND loopy this time. Usually I just get happy and interested in the world around me. Coloring helps. But this time I got loopy and sleepy. I could barely keep my eyes open to listen to the conversation going on around me. Thankfully, Maritte (a fellow English teacher and friend from school) was this week’s chaperone. She kept Mom occupied. They even had a long lunch together in the cafeteria. Mom thinks Maritte is fascinating and loved hearing her stories and I was eternally grateful Maritte was there because I seriously was not. I think I slept through most of the chemo this time. I told Mom that her next book needs to be all of the stories of all of the people who came to chemo with us. It can be like a Tuesdays with Morrie sort of book. Thursdays with the Uruguayans while my daughter had Cancer. I see a best seller.
The one difference this time, was Maria Rosa (head nurse and total bad-ass) decided that my vein wasn’t working like she wanted and she didn’t like how my left arm reacted to the tin foil (horrible bastard) chemo. So, she had my left hand IV taken out and placed a new line in my right thumb. As much as I hate the IV, it was nice to have the final drug in my right arm. (Although, I woke up with two sore arms, so maybe not.) I am telling you, I have more needle pricks in my two arms than a five cent junkie. And bruises all over my hands from the IVs. Plus bald spots. I’m pathetic. But it’s working. As we all saw from the PET scans, it is working. As every session ticks down, I feel more and more hopeful that the cells are being annihilated. Because as my good friend Rich Zajac would say: