Tuesday, February 4, 2014

A day at the spa?

Lydia taught me many things in her cancer journey, and it only seems proper that as I travel a similar path, I describe it here rather than starting a new blog. I don't think she would mind.

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Chemo is not a day at the spa...or is it?

I just completed chemotherapy treatment 6 out of 8, and so feel authorized to call myself somewhat of a Chemo Ninja. Let me tell you: it's not as bad as it sounds!

Typical chemo day:

Rise early. It will be a long day. 

Take a nice warm shower. No need to shampoo or shave your legs. You have no hair. Also no need to pluck your non-existent eyebrows! What a time-saver!

So skip the hair dryer and curling iron. I also skip the make up (including painting on eyebrows and eyelashes) and jewelry, except for my wedding ring. I love my Charlie that much!

Now, the most important part: put on your warm, fluffy robe and go...

Curl up in your special place with your Bible and devotional reading and a cuppa (hot coffee or tea). Thank the Lord for His tender mercies.

Get dressed. I know that people go shopping in their pajamas and puffy blue house slippers, but you'll see none of that at the clinic, so dress accordingly.

Key fashion words: Comfort and warmth

Comfort: I prefer to wear a skirt (less binding and remember, I didn't even have to shave my legs) and a button-up shirt with a cardigan (makes it easy to get to my port).

Warmth: Chemo makes you cold. You must cover your beautiful, bald head or else freeze. I always wear my wig, though it does not really fall into the "comfort" category. (At home, I wear Lydia's pink tobaggon hat when I feel cold.) Bring warm, cozy socks! I stick them in my bag and put them on just before chemo starts.

Speaking of my bag: you must pack! I have my iPod filled with books, sermons, pictures of family and friends (mostly Katherine Ruth, the most beautiful grandchild ever) and ok, a bit of John Denver and the Bee Gees. I carry print copies, just in case technology lets me down. I have crosswords and pens of all different colors. Lip gloss. Tissues. Journal. A bit of cross stitch. I used to pack snacks, but read on!

Upon arrival,

I am greeted by the most loving, caring group of nurses and caretakers. I get hugs and smiles. They call me by name and ask about my grand baby. I have come to know them by name. I have come to love them and thank God for them. Few can do what they do, day after day. I sit and wait with my other new friends, other patients waiting for their treatment, their talk with the doctor, their test results. My visits to the clinic are frequent, and as time goes by, I learn their names, their situations, and my prayer list grows. We do not realize our blessings till we sit in such a room, either as a patient or as a family member. It is the wonderful side-effect of cancer: the realization and illumination of the just how greatly we are blessed, even now!

My name is called (Kay, not Donna!) and I go to the treatment room. I am quickly and fairly painlessly hooked up, thanks to my port-o-cath (thank you Dr. Mason for doing such a fine job--I hear frequent complaints of badly done ports). This port is better than the ones on my computers! One stick and I am ready to go: blood work, chemo, other nice medicines that make me warm and drowsy,  nutritional fluids, steroids, the works! It creeped me out at first, laying there under my skin beneath my front shoulder--but we have since made peace.

Then I choose a recliner where I will spend most of the day. There are four at my clinic. Sometimes I am there all alone and get to chose my favorite one (in the corner with a nice view out the windows).
Sometimes there are 4 of us, and I pray for each one.

I am offered a soft, warm blanket and a variety of snacks (mostly salty crackers, a chemo favorite, but also cookies and mints) and water or soda (extra points if you choose water, but I always go for Coke Zero, regardless). I quietly greet those seated with me. Mayberry RFD or Bonanza is on the TV, and I watch it for a while. Relax, sleep, read, pray. Snuggle up and start again. Mani and pedi not included. I am not getting my winter-dried feet smoothed and creamed. I am not having my craggy cuticles trimmed and my nails painted bright red. I am getting cancer cells zapped. I think of Pac-man  (I was VERY good at Pac-man) and smile to myself. I think of my Lord, sitting there with me, loving me as He carries me safely through this storm, and I praise and thank Him for His perfect will.

Better than any spa.

PS: It is a bit downhill from here for the next few days :-)