"Anniversaries"
Yesterday was the 1 year anniversary of my first chemo infusion.
I thought about it a lot, as I sat in my Pharmacology of Anesthestics class. I would rather be sitting here, than there, I kept thinking.
I remember going to the infusion center and falling apart. I had held it together pretty well until that point. Diagnosis, finding the right oncologist and surgeon, talking about treatment modalities and outcomes, reading studies, etc. I think it was even remarked upon, to which I always answered “I’m a nurse; I’m in control.”
Until that day I had to show up and bare my arm. I’m a patient, and I’m helpless.
I imagine it must have been tough for George. I don’t think he has seen me in that state too often. My mom’s death, and this. Otherwise, I can lock it up when I have to.
The thing that irritated me was the false chipper “how are we doing today?!” from the first infusion nurse. “I have cancer, how the FUCK do you THINK I’m doing?” I said. I quickly appologized, but…I had to do a psych component for my nursing degree…didn’t you? You don’t approach someone with red-rimmed eyes, head hung low and trembling with the same tone as you would a kid standing in line at Disneyland!
I found this quite often in onocology. As if their false cheer was going to infect me and my mood. I KNOW what the reality is, I CAN’T be distracted by your cheeriness, what I’d really like is just some sincerety and sensitivity for how I FEEL. I try to make sure that I approach my patients this way. I don’t care if I’m having the worst, or the best fucking day of my life…they likely won’t be feeling the same way, and hey…I’m a NURSE, MY day doesn’t matter. If they WANT to be distracted by cheer, well, I can do that too, but I’m not going to cram my spoon full of sugar down anyone’s throat who doesn’t want it. I realize that some things have to just be “understood” and allowed to “be.”
So, how did I get on this tirade? Oh yeah…I was thinking about yesterday.
I even was reminded about it when I was at the grocery store looking for some type of snack that I could put in my book bag for those days when I can’t fit even the idea of a meal in edgewise. My eyes came to rest on a box of granola bars and I could feel the contents of my stomach rising up my esophagus and I thought I was going to lose it right there in the grocery store. Granola bars, and lots of water, were my pre-infusion meal. They tell you that it’s best to have some light meal in your stomach. Lance talked about a guy who ate two chicken ceaser salads because they were easiest to throw up later. People actually show up with bags of food, chinese take out, burgers, whatever…I couldn’t muster this.
But there I was, fighting the nausea at the thought of granola bars. Funny how one’s tastes change. The things I loved and craved are gone, (like sushi) and are now replaced with strange desires I refuse to give into (like cottage cheese on spaghetti. WTF? I can’t explain it…as a good Italian, I refuse to try it, but there are still nights where my mind will tell me to eat this.)
Also, I can never look at red jello again. The syringe full of adriamycin looks just like red jello before it’s congealed. Just thinking about it makes me queezy. If I ever need to barf on queue, I know what to think about.
Anyway, I was thinking about all the people whom are in those chairs now. I was hoping they could feel the “hang in there” vibe I was throwing their way. It does get better. Next year, you’ll be back to appreciating all the other things in your life that you once despised, like exams, taxes, paying bills… those things area all infinitely better than sitting in that infusion chair!
