The Good, The Bad and The Side Effects

My calendar used to be filled with normal life and now it's filled with medical appointments.  I keep telling the doctors and specialists and I'm healthy, active and don't even take Tylenol but they keep confirming I have cancer.  I have tried to bargain and negotiate with them but the answer is still the same, darn it.

TeeTee and I attended two "teach" classes at the Cancer Clinic.  The first was about port care.  It was agreed I should have a "power port" (hopefully super powers go with) installed into my chest so I don't ruin all the veins in my right arm.  Since my left side is the one where the lymph node extractions occurred, they won't use that arm for treatments.  So being down to one arm and the amount of needles and toxicity of the chemicals to be injected, a port it shall be.  The lovely nurses who explained the surgical procedure to us were surprised at our laughter and candid "OMG" comments throughout the reality of what was going to happen.  "They're putting what where?  How is that getting in there?"  I will apparently be frozen locally and two incisions made under my right collarbone.  Great, two scars on the "good side" to remember that by.  A nickel-sized gadget will be under my skin and the nurses will be able to draw blood, inject dyes for testing if needed and administer my chemotherapy by pricking (aka jabbing) my skin with a needle right into the port.  The entire surface looks like one of those screens in a faucet.  All they have to do is jab it into one of the many holes and we're good to go.  They made it sound so simple.  I asked where the "tube" goes and they said to a main artery.  Awesome.  Can't wait.  By the time we left, the nurses had my blog address and we had taken photos with them.

We went for lunch at White Spot and TeeTee had stir fry vegetables over fries.  I had the traditional stir fry over rice.  She's different that way.

This lesson was followed by the much more depressing "chemo teach" class.  There were about ten of us in the room and everyone looked so solemn and serious, like they were sick or something.  Not us.  TeeTee and I had the giggles throughout.  The first person to speak was talking all about the psychological services they offer patients.  We decided my issues were best left for the likes of Dr. Phil or Jerry Springer.

The next was a male nurse who talked about all the horror that's to come: fever, mouth sores, nail loss, loss of appetite, diarrhea, constipation, nausea, infection, hair loss and fatigue.  I'm totally fine with the last two, but the others, no, thank you, I'll pass.  More negotiation.  Basically, everyone who comes to visit me will need to wash their hands upon entry into my place.  Face masks are unnecessary but will be provided if you wish to wear one.  And yes, they're pink.  When he spoke of one of the side effects and said to basically just follow the Canadian Health Food Guide, I was fine with that.  Then he said "no coffee, no alcohol, no chocolate and no fatty foods".  Oh, I guess I misunderstood then because that is my food guide.

Then he showed us all a video.  TeeTee and I figured this was filmed in about 1920 - at least that's what the décor, hairstyles and clothing told us.  The first woman who spoke had spots all over her face and I was so freaked out by that possibility that I didn't hear what she had to say.  We decided it was just old footage and it was likely simply freckles.  The next had a lisp that was hard to understand and I found myself wondering if that was a side effect.  Then the last was a doctor who had a wandering eye and I was concentrating on being respectful.  I looked at TeeTee, who was taking notes, thank goodness.  I then thought to myself, what if her notes say, "spots, lisp, eyes".  That made me giggle and she must have known exactly what I was thinking and we set each other off.  With each passing frame in the show was more doom and gloom.  On the bottom of each part were words like "mouth sores", "fatigue" and "hair loss", much the way a film would say "six months ago in Shanghai".  It gave me a sinking feeling and when I looked at TeeTee, she'd look away so as not to make eye contact with me, especially when it came to the hair loss.  She still thinks she's not going to shave her head in support.  Silly her.

At the end of that teach class, the nurse gave us a tour of the chemo room.  It's broken into five "pods" each of which contain four reclining leather chairs.  The chairs all face into the centre of the room so you can visit with your fellow patients.  I'm allowed one friend in the room who can stay with me for the two-hour sessions.  Provided are heated blankies, pillows, tea, crackers, whatever you need to make your stay more comfortable.   Apparently Shiraz is not one of the choices.  Will there ever be a better time for alcohol?  There were people reading, knitting and listening to music.  Some had on toques and others were smiling.  It didn't look so bad.  I think I'd rather play the role of supporter now, thanks, to those strangers who didn't have people with them.  We both left there on overload.  TeeTee brought me home and all I could think was how nice everyone is and how horrible this is going to be.  I wonder sometimes if I'm strong enough for this battle.  Maybe I need that counselling number after all.  I wish Oprah hadn't gone off the air.  I could really use a chat with her right about now.

"Chester", the port teach nurses and me