I can’t even tell you the difficulty I had on day –2, so I’m not going to dwell on it. Let’s just say that when they were putting the ports in my chest and in my left arm, I had real actual thought of escaping and running away. Had the nurse not buckled me down on the table, who knows what would’ve happened.
I’ve always prided myself on remaining even keeled in stressful situations (baseball games aside), but I guess when you’re in a situation like this, all normal rules go right out the window.
So, just to recap yesterday, I had the ports put in my chest and my last dose of major chemo. I had still not slept at all to this point and was cranky and just unpleasant in general.
So that brings us today. Again, the previous night was filled with endless tossing and turning. If I got 2 hours of sleep, that would’ve been a lot. So what happened at 6:00am this morning? I was dragged off for my first dose of radiation.
Through three three skybridges on an uncomfortable stretcher and back to the bowels of the Perelman Center where this all started. My mom was placed in a waiting room and was taking to this huge chamber with something that looked like a huge space aged boiler in it. I was asked if I had my own music or if I wanted to listen to the communal IPOD. Of course, I have all apple products, but since I didn’t have my phone with me, I figured it a necessary evil. I was then placed in fetal position, the music came on and then a loud buzzing started. I didn’t really feel anything but a slight warmth, but I was in mental agony as the ipod mix seemed to loop between Lady GaGa songs and Cyndi Lauper. I honestly don’t know what was worse, the radiation or the music.
About half and hour later I was done. Between the gross fatigue, the proton therapy, and the shitty music, I was both tired, miserable and mostly incoherent. I don’t think I had ever felt a bought of nausea that was that bad. I held it, though as we were being escorted back to my room.
When we got there, the nurse informed us that I was to lay in the family lounge as the scrub my room from top to bottom. In a few hours, I would be in full isolation. Lockdown. Solitary confinement. Room 7014 would be my prison for the next 4-6 weeks.
As soon as I got to the lounge, I couldn’t hold it anymore. I yacked like I haven’t yacked since I first started drinking alcohol. It was an unpleasant mixture of unidentifiable food byproducts, bile, and god knows what else. It was terrible and the taste lingered in my mouth forever. And as has become customary, I passed out immediately afterward.
I slept and slept and slept until it was time again to go for radiation at 6:00pm. This time I was armed with my Incredible. The 2nd time around was not as bad, with my music playing and with me falling in and out of sleep, it was nice.
I can back to the room, sans terrible nausea (yay!) and was awaited by my wonderful sister, mother, and two family friends (well, Chumki Mashi I guess is more of an acquaintance). We got everything in the room situated (including me) and I guess this is the go. We are T –2 days to the transplant and all systems are go.
Here goes nothing.
And as always, if this talk of vomiting and general whining has brought you down… Here’s a little pick me up courtesy of my man Steve (I Apologize for it being sideways)
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