On our way to hell

Sounds like the start of a bad joke, huh? "on our way to hell, we met a man and his horse in a bar....." I said it was a bad joke, didn't I? Yep, we're on our way to hell. As predicted he's starting to go down. Roger exclaimed at one point this morning, "man, I can't believe how bad I'm starting to feel". Nothing you can do except try to endure and know that next week will mean the return of more good days.

We're here at the infusion center. The nurses are unhooking the Roger's chemo pump. For the next couple hours, an IV will flow more anti-nausea drugs, Ativan, and fluids. Roger is already snoozing. Prior to drifting off we were getting him settled in with pillow and blanket. I asked if he needed another blanket (the infusion center has blankets and pillows for the patients) and he told me "no, I kicked some old lady's butt and took the last two...she couldn't reach them. Bet she wishes she were a foot taller". He's too funny. I know better. He'd sit and freeze rather than have someone uncomfortable.

Its a busy day here today. Loads of patients getting chemo. Beth our nurse said 35! One of our observations, at least today, is that women patients come in with a wider net of support and Roger's observation is that they bring in a lot more life and laughter. Its fun to watch. We have a couple gals down from us with their support network here chirping away. Polar opposite and a strange contradiction is a family immediately across from us. Three people including the patient. The patient is an older woman who is very frail - obviously later in her chemo treatments as she is wearing a turban/scarf covering her hair. The male member of her family is visibly upset. His foot is tapping anxiously as he is lost in thought staring at his wife. He's obviously a comfort to her because she keeps reaching out to hold hands with him. Everyone has a touch stone. He must be hers.

~angie