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.
I’ve been drugged, I’m loopy and incoherent; but what’s worse is that I have no idea for what reason. All I know is that I am in pain.
My Mom and Stepdad stayed with me the entire time while I awaited the results of the test. It was nice of them, but I wasn’t much of an entertainer at this moment considering the severe pain and being drugged; a winning combination at parties– well maybe in Hollywood.
Before the nurse could arrive at 4pm with my next dose of pain meds, my doctor beat her to the punch. “Hey Jamie, so we have an idea of what may be causing the discomfort, and we want to try another CAT Scan.”Read More »
It’s amazing how many of my experiences were tied to some form of entertainment, because during most peoples’ treatments, they are far from entertained; they’re usually in pain.
So it made sense that I too would get to experience such discomfort during my stay at Eastern Maine Medical Center. I suppose it was as inevitable as a cancer patient losing his or her hair.Read More »