My oncologist was right, chemo would get harder as I progressed through it. I wanted for him to be wrong and I thought I was strong enough to take on chemotherapy gracefully. Ha! Once again, the doctor knows what he is talking about. I guess he knows what he is doing 😉.
Let me share how the week started–I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be smooth sailing.
I went to get my blood taken the day before in preparation for my transfusion. I went to my regular phlebotomist, who I really like and who has never had any problems drawing my blood. For some reason she had a difficult time finding my vein and had to wiggle the needle around to draw blood. That was incident No. 1.
I woke up the next day and went to my infusion. I was happily surprised that I had the same nurse from my first treatment. My nurse from my second visit was rougher and I was glad to not be stabbed with a needle by her. The nurse recognized me and we traded pleasantries. As she got ready to find my port, she grumbled a little bit and explained my port had moved and I would need a bigger needle. Great–just great! She called for another nurse and he came over with a new, larger needle. When she poked me I let out a growl, which I usually do not do. That thing hurt! When she put the needle in, it felt funny, so she had to take it out and stab me again! Ugggghhh!
Luckily I had a wonderful crew of people with me that day. My dear friend Melody drove up from Eugene to spend the day with me. We were able to grab lunch and catch up after not seeing each other for awhile. She also got to meet my mom and some of my sisters for the first time. I really do miss her! Speaking of sisters, my sister Michelle also came up for the treatment from Los Angeles. Having her here during the hardest recovery to date was comforting–I needed her quick-witted personality.
Early Monday morning I couldn’t sleep and I was burning up, so I took my temperature. I was running a high temp and had to make an unexpected trip to the ER. Of course when I got there and they took my temperature, it was back down to normal. As a precaution they ran a handful of tests, including a chest x-ray for pneumonia, and everything came back normal. The only explanation the doctor could come up with for my fever was dehydration. Lucky me, I also had my port accessed again to give me fluids and I was stabbed again by that big needle that I so hated during chemo. Another day, another needle.
I’m hoping that the worst is over for this round. I can’t even imagine what the last round will be like, but I am grateful that the end of chemo is near.