Big Juicy Veins (Part 2 Of My Cancer Treatment)

Big Juicy Veins

How about that from a nurse practitioner who will be in charge of my chemo? It means IVs will be easily tolerated when my chemo begins.

But first some really good news.

In this past week from Hell, I’ve been tested, tested, and even more tested.

The week began with an examination from my oncologists who will be administering the chemo. They both thought the 5” scar above my belly button from my recent surgery was “beautiful” and that should I want to wear a Speedo in the future, I should go for it.

(I’ll pause here for a moment while you clear your throat and rid your mind of that disgusting thought).

I was examined and told about what to expect when the chemo treatment actually began.

The next day was spent at Northwestern Memorial Hospital where I was subjected to a nuclear injection, which takes about two hours plus to go throughout your system. During that down time I was sent to CT scan Hell.

Did you ever have to drink berry-flavored barium?

Mmmm!

Disgusting and I had one half hour to consume about 24 ounces of this flavored chalk. Then I started on bottle number two. The med tech told me not to chug it, but to drink it slowly. The taste and the consistency were more than my body could handle. The reaction to this beverage was such that even though I wasn’t scheduled for a colonoscopy, (one could have been done since the stuff cleaned me out).

Too much information!

Then the scans started. If you are mildly claustrophobic having a camera inches from your face would drive you nuts. I’m not, so during the first 22-minute scan I was soon snoring.

Then they scanned some more and even more after that. Then back to Nuclear Medicine to have even more scans. They checked me from tip to toes (Wifey goes to a nail salon with that very name).

Hold one uncomfortable position and don’t move for 5 minutes. Do the same thing for another, and another, and another. “Sorry, we didn’t get what we wanted first time around so we want to do two more 5 minute uncomfortable scans”.

What was supposed to be one hour actually was closer to two hours in length. It’s a very good thing Wifey had wonderful Shirlee to keep her company during my ordeal. And I don’t want to minimize the ordeal Wifey was sharing, not knowing what was going on with me and why it took so long.

The next day we met with a Nephrologist (try saying that fast three times) and discussed how she was going to be part of my continuing care. And then we had to wait for the test results.

Wifey and I were on the way to meet with the oncologist’s nursing practioner today when the supervising oncologist’s office called to inform us there was no sign of metastastic disease. In English, that means the cancer had NOT spread and the treatments could begin.

They will next week and I am confident that we will be able to ride it out to get on with our lives. Chemo can be difficult, or it can’t. There is this possible side effect or there won’t be. If my hair – already thin – gets thinner, I’ll look for a blonde wig!
Or not.

I plan to get through this fighting all the way. I’ll exercise as much as my body will allow. All in all, it’s only 3 months and then I should be able to resume my normal daily activities and laughing with Wifey.

Wish me luck

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