Chatting With The Nurse.

Today when I went to the infusion center for my weekly dose of Vit. H (that’s code for Herceptin for those of you unfamiliar with cancerland lingo) the first thing that happened was Dr. Sh.’s CRNP came over to talk to me. This is unusual. Usually I just go in, get my port accessed, get my Vit. H and go home. I am not seen by anyone other than the infusion nurses. But in walks (let’s call her) Mona.

I was very happy to see her, and even happier to talk about how miserable I have been feeling. I don’t think it’s too much nitty gritty to mention that I am so fatigued I can barely do more than shower and brush my teeth. Honestly, with these last two infusions I have become overwhelmed with fatigue almost immediately and it doesn’t even begin to abate until a week later. So that is Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. 8 days. 8 days of feeling like I could drop off to sleep at any moment. 8 days of having very little tolerance for…well…anything. I don’t want to talk. Or read. Or move. Thank God for all those Real Housewives of Everywhere…I can watch mindless TV and they are less annoying then SpongeBob.

But…back to what I wanted to bog about. In walks Mona and after listening to me gripe and moan and complain she says “You know, we can reduce your chemo dose for your next (and FINAL) treatment”, “I know”, I said “Dr. Sh. told me that too but will it reduce my side effects? Dr. Sh says it really won’t so what’s the point?” “The point”, says Mona “is that there is no good reason for you to feel this bad for this long. It is not conducive to healing. You have done well, you have mass quantities of chemo running thru you at all times killing off any lingering cancer cells. The side effects are cumulative, meaning each time they last longer. This has been long enough. I strongly suggest you reduce your last dose, I will tell this to Dr. Sh. too, you need to get back to living.”

I love Mona.

Her visit to me was unexpected. I don’t know if Dr. Sh. had sent her over to see how I was based on how I was last time a week after chemo or what. I didn’t ask. I didn’t care. I was glad to see her, glad she gave me a good 30 minutes of her time before my port was accessed and my Vit. H and liter of hydration was hanging (yeah, I needed that hydration again, you try to swallow with chemo mouth). Glad that she makes me feel cared for, important. Glad that she listens to me and speaks from her heart. She made me feel better by just her words and her eyes.

I really have nothing bad to say about any one of the medical professionals whose task it is to get me back to me. I have been blessed with a medical team of responsible, caring, professionals. There is nothing worse than a medical professional who makes you feel like a patient instead of a human. I think, as a patient with cancer, it is sometimes hard for me to even see myself as a human and not a patient, so it sure is nice when those tasked with caring for me can unintentionally remind me of my humanity.

On a completely different topic, can I just say how unfair it is that at least 50% my eyebrows have chosen to fall out while my armpit hair is growing in? Seriously. Just this morning. I saw it on the towel.

Stupid cancer. Stupid chemo.