Chemo is a scare word. There is no good context, no good sentence, that contains that word. Chemo is something you only do after you’ve been told your body is trying to kill you!
Chemo is different from all my other treatments. It’s done out of the doctor’s office in a clinic. Most people there are veterans. It doesn’t take long to know the drill and know the players.
Everyone’s a little different but my treatment comes in three stages.
First things first. A special syringe is inserted in my port which directly connects to my main artery. A small vial of blood is removed and taken to the on-site lab. Other than a very brief pinch when the syringe breaks my flesh there is no pain or any sensation from the process which follows. However, I continue to be a head case about the port.
My blood test results are checked before chemo is administered. Specifically nurses are looking to see white and red blood and platelet counts. These are all thing chemo weakens. Have I recovered sufficiently enough from my last session?
Kelly said my numbers looked good. I cleared the first hurdle.
Now my port would be used as an entrance. Two bags of nausea medication were hung high and dripped in.
Nowadays IV lines like this are controlled by very precise pumps. The nurse enters your prescription parameters into the pump’s brain so the meds can be dosed out for maximum effect.
There’s a lot of beeping in the treatment center. As bags empty nurses head toward the sound.
The third and last step is Gemzar, my chemotherapy drug. It will drip from its bag for precisely 30 minutes.
When time’s up the syringe is removed from my port and I’m sent on my way. Today’s session took around two hours. I brought my tablet and headphones and napped to Beethoven (his birthday is tomorrow).
I’ve already got an appointment for next Wednesday. Three down, nine to go.