The buzz buzz buzz of a busy oncology center

Wednesdays seem to be sheer madness at the oncology center.  Apparently a couple doctors (including Roger's) all load up their patients on Wednesdays.  It gets so bad that sometime you can't find a recliner for the infusion.  When you have to sit for 5+ hours during an infusion....a straight back side chair is NOT the way to spend hours of sitting.  We were fortunate (fortunate?  Really?  um, no) to get here early enough to get a chair.  Of course the doctor was running late which still meant we had some chair time in uncomfortable side chairs while we waited. 

The doctor was a little startled to see that Roger hadn't had a better recovery from the last round of chemo.  He is puny, pale, and simply doesn't feel good.  Roger's doctor had expected a much improved Roger since we reduced the dosage of chemo by 20% from the original dosage.  So, the doctor said we are going to continue with the reduced dosage but are now going to try going on a 3-week schedule instead of the 2-week schedule.  The hope is that Roger's quality of life will improve while still staying the course for treatment.  The doctor said he is worried that if we stayed on the 2-week schedule based on how Roger looked and sounded today that Roger would end up in the hospital...and recovery from that would be even worse.  While we all would prefer to stay as close to the originally prescribed chemo protocol to better insure annihilation of the cancer (ok, I know that's a little dramatic of a word but its what I like to envision), Roger  just doesn't seem to be able to handle it.

Each and every trip to the oncology center has a profound impact.  Good, bad, emotionally stirring....you name it.  Today, once Roger was hooked up and snoozing a little (he didn't sleep much last nite), the nurses were off tending to other patients.  I had gotten the laptop out and was in the process of whittling away at my email.  In our area, I heard one of the nurses chirp to a patient "its good to see you!!  But what are you doing here??? We haven't seen you for a long time."  The patient and his wife responded with much heaviness and tears in their eyes that the last treatment didn't take.  So, they are back for more....I remember too well.  Your heart ends up in your throat.  Your head is screaming "NO!!  We did this already and it was supposed to have gotten rid of the cancer!"  All the while you try to maintain a brave front.  The amazing nurses give you an understanding look, a giant hug, and words of encouragement that they will be with you every step of the way.  And somehow, someway, you managed to catch your breath sit down and will your way into the start of chemo.   You can usually tell the brand new patients as well as those just returning...once they are hooked up the patient and family/friend sit staring into space lost in thought.  Seems to happen every time. 
The especially hard part for the brand new patients (been there done that) is how you are bombarded with information about the treatment, the drugs, and the whole thing. The nurses sit down with patient and caregiver to explain all the drugs, side effects, what to look for, how you might feel, etc.  Its a ton of info and sooo very hard to remember and understand.  I wish they would do not only the first time but a couple treatments in...once the sheer horror of the treatment has worn off a little.  Never goes a way....just lessens. 

There you have it.  Life as we know it for now.   Will post along the way on our trip to hell...and the trip back out.  Keep sending all those positive thoughts this way.  xoxoxo, a