SPA DAZE
I am beginning to find a rhythm to my medical treatment here in Florida. I am on a three week cycle of chemotherapy - two weeks on/one week off. I have no idea how many cycles I will need to experience before I go into remission again. That's for tomorrow. Now I go into Holy Cross Hospital one mile from my house on Monday & Friday mornings where I receive my transfusion. It begins with drawing blood for an updated blood test and a saline drip just to hydrate me. If the test comes back with questionable results; ie: lower platelets, as it did this week, the doctor has to be paged for permission to continue with the Velcade infusion. When that happens I am given anti-nausea pills and we wait twenty more minutes for them to take effect. I either doze listening to serius radio in my recliner or write on my laptop. The Velcade then takes about five minutes and I leave.
From there I make the twenty minute drive to Boca Raton to Leslie, my accupunturist, where she treats me to blunt the impact of the Velcade and yet enhance it's effects. She also gives me anti-nausea treatments. I ususally fall asleep for thirty minutes stuck full of needles and wake enormously relaxed. I arrive home about 4:30 PM. So it pretty much takes the entire day twice each week. But so what. I just don't schedule anything else at all during those two days and I have come to refer to them as my "Spa Days" - anything to avoid regarding them as grim.
I was told by Pat, one of the wonderful infusion nurses, that the side effects of the Velcade will be cumulative - so much for easy entry. Yesterday I was hit by non-stop diarrhea and I remain tethered within ten feet of the bathroom. Can you imagine what it is like to wear pampers at sixty-four??? (At least there is still NO NAUSEA!). The neuropathy in my feet is also worsening. Fortunately, there is no pain. Rather, the soles of my feet are increasingly numb. It used to be like walking with clumps of sand in my shoes. Now it is more like shoes filled with sand. It is annoying. And since it is the nerves on the soles of our feet that aid us in navigating across the ground, and since I have to learn how to walk unassisted after my operation, I feel a bit like a drunk trying to "walk the line."
And yet. As I write this on a clear and beautiful Sunday morning I am sitting in my favorite teak chaise by the side of the river just in back of the opening photo of the riverside bench. From here I listen to the mating songs of the two jays swirling about me and I glance up every now and then to look at the passing boats. Lucky lies asleep next to me and the palm fronds sway overhead in this delicious breeze. I am moved to tears by the beauty and grace of it all. In this moment life is very, very good.
I am beginning to find a rhythm to my medical treatment here in Florida. I am on a three week cycle of chemotherapy - two weeks on/one week off. I have no idea how many cycles I will need to experience before I go into remission again. That's for tomorrow. Now I go into Holy Cross Hospital one mile from my house on Monday & Friday mornings where I receive my transfusion. It begins with drawing blood for an updated blood test and a saline drip just to hydrate me. If the test comes back with questionable results; ie: lower platelets, as it did this week, the doctor has to be paged for permission to continue with the Velcade infusion. When that happens I am given anti-nausea pills and we wait twenty more minutes for them to take effect. I either doze listening to serius radio in my recliner or write on my laptop. The Velcade then takes about five minutes and I leave.
From there I make the twenty minute drive to Boca Raton to Leslie, my accupunturist, where she treats me to blunt the impact of the Velcade and yet enhance it's effects. She also gives me anti-nausea treatments. I ususally fall asleep for thirty minutes stuck full of needles and wake enormously relaxed. I arrive home about 4:30 PM. So it pretty much takes the entire day twice each week. But so what. I just don't schedule anything else at all during those two days and I have come to refer to them as my "Spa Days" - anything to avoid regarding them as grim.
I was told by Pat, one of the wonderful infusion nurses, that the side effects of the Velcade will be cumulative - so much for easy entry. Yesterday I was hit by non-stop diarrhea and I remain tethered within ten feet of the bathroom. Can you imagine what it is like to wear pampers at sixty-four??? (At least there is still NO NAUSEA!). The neuropathy in my feet is also worsening. Fortunately, there is no pain. Rather, the soles of my feet are increasingly numb. It used to be like walking with clumps of sand in my shoes. Now it is more like shoes filled with sand. It is annoying. And since it is the nerves on the soles of our feet that aid us in navigating across the ground, and since I have to learn how to walk unassisted after my operation, I feel a bit like a drunk trying to "walk the line."
And yet. As I write this on a clear and beautiful Sunday morning I am sitting in my favorite teak chaise by the side of the river just in back of the opening photo of the riverside bench. From here I listen to the mating songs of the two jays swirling about me and I glance up every now and then to look at the passing boats. Lucky lies asleep next to me and the palm fronds sway overhead in this delicious breeze. I am moved to tears by the beauty and grace of it all. In this moment life is very, very good.
No comments:
Post a Comment