It was eerie how well things had been going. The chemo bombardment had become shorthand to my caregivers and me. I would receive the blood count-killing poison and then waited it out until my body bounced back to life. The overall process wasn’t as long as it had once been for the first few courses, as these were significantly less potent, but nevertheless, I was running through the paces.
But this one was different in another way… It was my very last one.Read More »
Mom recovered nicely from her surgery, and somehow, she was a fan of the food (maybe I’m still quite picky after all). February progressed without so much as a medical whimper, but with my past experiences, I was ready for the absolute worst. What was to befall me in my last weeks in Medical care; Crohn’s Disease? Chlamydia? A prolapsed anus?
…Maybe I should slow down on these guesses… Cannot afford to tempt fate at this junction.
Instead, I focused on what was to come after treatment. As much as I always knew I would come out of this relatively unscathed, I hadn’t thought of my future, post-treatment. I devoted so much of my own mental energy to healing, that the thought had rarely crossed my mind.
Okay, when I said that I was bored, I didn’t wantthis.
I lifted the blue dome, freeing the fragrance of bacon and pancakes to waft into my nostrils. I took in the scent deeply, and smiled; it always smelled better than it tasted. It’s like when my friends and I would stay up all night, and I’d whip them up a batch of pancakes for breakfast. There was nothing quite like the first whiff of a freshly lifted hot cake.
The room’s door had a window on its body, but I always kept the blinds almost all the way down for privacy. I saw someone’s legs in what little window I allowed, so I knew what was next: a knock.
There’s a saying about boredom: “There is no such thing as boredom, only boring people.”
Having spent years in a small town, designing ways in which to pass the time, I agree wholeheartedly with this statement. To be bored is to be without an idea of something achievable that excites you. Sure, I suppose that real boredom can happen sometimes, but other times it’s a realization that the thing you chose to do wasn’t what you wanted. You do something that you initially thought you desired, like watch a TV show, but then soon after, realize you’re bored with the show.
The New Year was here, my fungal infection was officially gone, and I was on the fourth treatment of six. Things were going great, as long as I kept myself preoccupied as much as possible.
TV did the trick for some of the day, as the usual Price is Right, Friends, Wheel/Jeopardy schedule couldn’t be broken, but I had to find creative ways to fill the rest– Aw, who am I kidding?! I had a freaking Gamecube now!
Wow, what a Christmas! Not only did my family surround me at every turn, but I also received a substantial amount of presents. My Dad even bought me my very own Gamecube!
Now, all of the games that have kept me sane over the past few months could be at my fingertips at a moment’s notice. No longer would I have to share my distraction from thoughts of boredom or death; I would have my very own game console to do that for me!
The next few deliveries of Amphoterrible weren’t that bad really. They properly bombed me beyond the point of the shakes, and I mostly slept through the courses. I had been discharged and again stayed at Chet Ronald and only had to visit the outpatient clinic every few days in the mornings to get the treatments; it wasn’t necessary to waste my Dad’s Insurance on expensive hospital stays.
For those of you just joining us, I was told that I needed an infusion that while great at killing fungal infections would also cause me to shake uncontrollably. Now we resume our regularly scheduled programming:
“Tremors? Like an earthquake?”
“No, more like a seizure. Dr. McGann didn’t tell you?”
“No… I guess she had enough bad news to tell me. Why does this medicine do this?”
“Well, not to worry, we give you Demerol to control the shakes, it’ll relax your entire body; you’ll often fall asleep through the infusion.”
This morning (Sunday, Dec. 11), I awoke naturally; at 6 AM (PST) and decided to use this extra time to get a jumpstart on some writing. As I am also trying a new fasting technique that delays my first meal of the day by a few hours, I decided to also abstain from my usual immediate coffee consumption. So I sat there in a half-awake daze trying to focus on my thoughts.
But as the words stalled within my mind, I realized that I may not be able to write until I ate or showered (my usual methods to become alert, otherwise I’m notorious for falling back asleep), so I finished a movie that I had started the night before for my #52Pick-Up series, and at that precise moment, a wave of nostalgia crashed over me. I had a fond memory of me doing exactly this before, getting up early to watch a movie when I couldn’t sleep thirteen years ago in the hospital.Read More »
After the first week of hospitalization, I was told that I was a pleasant patient; I never made a commotion, was absurdly polite, and most importantly, did what I was told.
I was also commended over the course of my various treatments about how well my body was reacting to the chemotherapy. Sure, I had the requisite amount of nausea, lack of hunger, and hair loss, but overall, the astounded nurses and doctors reassured me that I had had it better than most of the kids they had treated.