"Live from New York"

I couldn't have been more excited to start treatment this morning. It wasn't like "free pastry" excited, rather, more "let's get in there and fight the good fight" excited. 

Below is a breakdown of the day.  I should note, unless I walk in on the elderly in the facility bathroom (happened at least once a week while at the last hospital - poor old ladies couldn't figure out how to lock the floor to ceiling doors) or something significant takes place, I don't expect to document each trip. I also note that each appointment time is different.  So if you're interested in learning my schedule patterns so you can break in and try to steal my collection of creepy animal statues from HomeGoods, you're out of luck, pal.

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5:30AM - Showered and applied copious amounts of under eye concealer, foundation and other makeup.  Mascara.  Spent an extra 10 minutes on my hair.  Mascara. I take more time getting pretty for my oncologist, just so she can say "You look fantastic!", than I do for my own husband. Mascara.

7:30AM - Arrived at destination with my posse, Lou and Dad.   That HOV lane is mint.  It's wonderful to have you back Brooklyn Battery Tunnel.

8:30AM - Vitals checked. Blood pressure, weight and blood work noted. "I need to take blood from your hand."  BOOO!  ANYWHERE BUT THE HAND!  Fortunately my phlebotomist retrieved my blood like a boss...from the top of my right hand but she did an outstanding job.  Her reasoning for taking blood from my hand?  In case there's an issue with the port and they need to use a vein, to administer chemo, they can use a good vein.  Uh, what happened to the sales pitch from 2 weeks ago that they can take my blood from the port?!  Once again - things they fail to put in the brochure!

8:40 AM - Met with doctors and discussed treatment plan. Now I had lost several pounds over the past two weeks and I brought it up with the doctors. "I read a few articles about cancer and sugar so I haven't been eating much of anything. No white breads, pasta, cake. It's mostly fruit and a little chicken when I do eat". Lou chimed in. "She barely eats".  El Raton!  "If you want a piece of cake, eat a piece of cake. You already have cancer. We don't believe it accelerates its growth at all". My hands are tied. I have to eat a piece of cake. Doctors' orders.

11:00 AM - Two women just passed through the waiting area pushing a cart overflowing with 3rd grade art supplies.  Now I want to make a tissue paper flower with a green pipe cleaner.

Wait!  Back it up.  I almost forgot to tell you about the best part of waking up: 

This morning I was reminded of probably my favorite Bible story, before I even stepped foot out of bed. It was just the "LET ME SEE YOUR WAR FACE" motivation I needed:

Matthew 21:12 - 14 - Jesus entered the temple area and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. "It is written," he said to them, "'My house will be called a house of prayer,' but you are making it a 'den of robbers. The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them.'"

I was further reminded...

1 Corinthians 6:19 - 20- Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body."

Jesus had righteous anger. The temple was a place for prayer and healing and people were completely violating the temple. My body's a temple to God's Holy Spirit. Evil, malicious, despicable, vile, loathsome cancer has settled into His temple. See where I'm going here? Jesus, let's flip some tables!

11:20AM - OOH! Random tech just came out. They're mixing my cocktail. I'm "next". We'll see what "next" means.

12:20PM - The chemo needle is in the port!  Weird feeling.  

How lovely is this? Since I'm here through lunch, I can order a "free" sandwich from a limited menu from a DELI next door. A Manhattan deli - not some sloppy mess from a hospital kitchen. And, my companions, although they have to pay, can also order lunch. The hospital takes care of the ordering. Score!

 
They started me with several pre-chemo drugs including Pepcid and Benadryl. 

Why hello IV Benadryl.  Where have you been all my life?

"Butterfly in the sky, I can go twice as high. Take a look. It's in a book. A Reading Rainbow..."

HEY! The Arts and Crafts cart ladies are here! Yes, please I would love to make a paper flower. Thank you for the materials!!  

1:00PM - Preliminary meds over.  Commence Chemo...

 

I admit, the Apocalypse Now bit in the helicopter was what really entered my mind - but that's not at all appropriate.

Let's go Carboplatin <clap, clap, clap clap clap>!! Let's go Carboplatin <clap, clap, clap clap clap> !!

I didn't feel any different or weird.  It was as though I was just chilling in a recliner, with an IV hanging out of the top of my chest while I sipped on apple juice and a strawberry smoothie. 


2:24PM - Time to change the medication

Let's go Taxol <clap, clap, clap clap clap>!! Let's go Taxol <clap, clap, clap clap clap>!!

2:40PM - Flower done. 

3:00PM - First treatment down.  Making my way to the pharmacy for some legitimate drugs to help prevent nausea.  God bless union insurance, man.  If not for coverage, and I say this with all gratitude and humility, between my surgery, radiation, testing and now chemo, we would have had to sell our house.  Thank you husband for your life choices.

5:00PM - Home and joyful.  I'm finally an active player in the fight.  It's empowering.  It's also terrifying - I'm pumping my body with toxic matter which we pray will cure my disease but could potentially open the door to secondary cancers down the road (ironic, no?).  But as God reminded me last week, He's bigger than a pulmonary embolism, He's bigger than cancer and He just wants me to fearlessly trust Him.