It's Thursday of what I call "Chemo countdown week" in prparation for tomorrow's hospital appointment when I pick up the chemo drugs, ready to take them first thing on Saturday morning, which marks the start of "Chemo week proper". The trouble these regular-like-clockwork events become not only quite dull but a little too predictable. Take today for example- a lovely sunny day here in Norfolk, and it would have been nice to go out, but I had my telephone assessment. Basically (for those not in the know!), on the day before my appointment, a chemo nurse from the N&N gives me a phonecall, to check up on me and to see if there are any issues/ problems before the next cycle starts. Invariably these phone calls barely last five minutes. But it is stressed that they are important and should be treated like actual hospital appointments. Unfortunately like hospital appointments, there are often delay. However, unlike hospital appointments, there is no way of knowing this. When I go to hospital, they have a whiteboard, with any delays written on it. At home you're just stuck waiting until they call. Today this was an hour later than the planned time. This is not only irritating but a little too predictable; I know that if my phone appointment is 1.30, it is unlikely I'll hear from anyone until at least 2 o'clock, which does nothing for my annoyance levels!
Then on the day itself (tomorrow), I know that I will wait in the waiting room for what seems hours, only to be whisked through the hemo unit at break-neck speed! As I enter I will be given two swabs (that look like long handled cotton buds), which I have to take into the toilet and swab the inside of each nostril with one, and then eah side of my groin with the other- joy. This is to check for carriers of MRSA, and every person entering or leaving the unit has to be swabbed. After this exciting activity, I go to the desk, pick up my chemo drugs and anti-sickness tablets (if needed) and can go on my merry way. Given that I live 25 miles from the N&N, it means that it can take an hour and a quarter each way, for just a few minutes at the actual hospital!
The worst of the predictable events is reserved for Saturday. Normally a person doesn't know when they're going to be sick. If they feel a bit ropey before bedtime, they may think they are coming down with something, But generally the act of actually being physically sick is something of a surprise. This is a good thing- who really wants to know in advance?!
I, however, will go to bed on Friday night, knowing almost for certain that I will be sick the next day (I have consistently been sick on the first day of chemo for every cycle). If going to bed knowing this is difficult, imagine waking up the next morning and having to take medicine, that you know is going to have this effet?! Good as it was this week, to find out it was actually working,it still doesn't make me relish the thought of taking the horrible stuff. Aside from the first day vomiting, I can also predict with some certainty, that I will feel pretty awful for the next week, and will be completely devoid of energy.
That said I can also (More happily) predict that by next Wednesday I'll be really pleased to have got yet another cycle out the way...
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