[cancer] Off to the infusion center

In about two hours I’m off to the infusion center for my first chemotherapy session of this course. It will work a lot like last time.

I’ll arrive a little early to have my chest port accessed and blood work done. Then I’ll see the oncologist or oncology nurse-practitioner at 9 am. Then they’ll pull together the drug suite — there’s something like a dozen medications involved. I’ll be in the chair by 10 or 10:30. The primary infusion process will take about four or five hours, I think. They’ll hook me up to the pump, which I’ll go home with and wear for 48 hours. Sometime Sunday afternoon the pump will run dry, I’ll be unhooked, that will be about it.

Last time I did the chemo bottle ritual, but I simply have not been able to summon the motivation to develop a similar ritual this time. The social and emotional landscape of my life is very different on this trip through chemotherapy, and that practice seems like it belonged to another, happier person who isn’t me any more.

I’m also a lot less frightened this time. Which is not to say I don’t have moments of fear and panic, but the Fear has been almost entirely absent. Mostly I’m pissed off. That, and feeling trepidatious.

The human mind is an amazing thing. That something even this horrific can come to feel routine is… bizarre.

Anyway, I’m not sure how much blogging I’ll be doing over the next few days. I may be quite verbose or I may be absent. Y’all will know where I am.

How did my life come to this?

7 thoughts on “[cancer] Off to the infusion center

  1. Sydney says:

    Thinking of you today.

  2. Jan says:

    It’s not easy going through this again, that’s for sure, but it also brings up the memories of your lost love. She was so apart of it last time. Makes it twice as difficult to deal with.

    My heart goes out to you and sending you positive energy.

    (((HUGS)) Jay.

    Jan

  3. Cliff Winnig says:

    Yep, this time is different in many ways, but one thing is the same: you are much-loved. I’m just sayin’.

    You’re in my thoughts, bro.

  4. In my thoughts too. I’d say in my dreams, but I know you’d take that the worst… best… way possible 🙂

    1. Jay says:

      Oh, the best, believe me… 😉

  5. Cora says:

    Hang in there! Lots of people all over the world are thinking of you today.

  6. JJinLa says:

    Dear Jay, just discovered your blog. Wishing U the best.. Did you have a family medical history related to cancer or colon cancer? I ask because at age 38 I had a slight rectal bleed. The docs assumed it would be nothing serious but the GI doc did do a sigmoidascope & found numerous polyps. Now he did a colonosco;y and found more polyps. At 38, I felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under me. Dern it, I thought I was perfectly healthy!. A trip to Mayo clinic ensued, where they totally removed my colon and redid my internal plumbing witha J Pouch ( made out of the small intestine) I have what is called familial polyposis which is a genetic defect which means one will 100% develop colon cancer in one’s lifetime.. Any children will have a 50% chance of inheriting the FAP Gene, which my son did inherit. I could accept it for myself, but it was hard finding out I had passed this gene to my son. I go to the bathroom often and I have been thinking about writing a book for travelers, “100 Best Bathrooms: The Best Places To Go” I have alot of funny poopy stories. I don’t know why people get so bent out of shape over poop. I will share some of the funny stories in future posts. Stay strong! JJ

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