"Chemo"...having to do with chemicals.

I know this probably hasn’t happened to anyone but me (if that is true then just play along), but…you know when someone puts something you want really bad just out of reach and you lunge for it, only for them to yank it out of reach…and you want it so bad, that you reach for it again.  You are more nonchalant this time so as to make the jackass teasing you think you really aren’t interested.  You pounce again, only to be rejected over and over and over again, as they tug your reward just beyond your grasp.  Damn that bartender… (did I really just say that?) That is how part of this journey has felt to me, with Miki’s diagnosis and treatment…and I am not Miki.  I cannot imagine what she has experienced, although if you have been following her, you know about that more than me.  I have not been a loyal follower of “Mikisjoy,” other than the occasional read.  Not sure why, other than I live it with her everyday and when I do have the time, I am sharing my version or sleeping, unlike Miki the night owl e-mailer and blogger extraordinaire. 

Hoping 3^rd times a charm, we are back at Centerpoint Medical Center (I think I have been referring to it as Centerpoint Hospital).  With her pain level too high when sitting up and her first chemo treatment looming, she was welcomed back to “the point” so she could be horizontal, while receiving her first round (by the way…the word treatment…treat does not seem appropriate here).  Evidently our outpatient facility (or maybe all of them) doesn’t want you to be that comfortable, or maybe there is a medical reason that hasn’t surfaced yet as to why they don’t supply an occasional bed…maybe it is a space issue.  But I am thinking, for what they are getting paid for this, they could squeeze in a cot or something for the prone position.  But I will inquire.  You know why?  Because inquiring minds want to know!  And I am nothing, if not a national inquirer.

Having had the privilege of being a “direct admit,” for the third time, we have experienced passing GO and collecting $200 each trip around the board here at Centerpoint.  Since we are in their system and evidently have frequent bedpan miles, we go straight to Miki’s room without getting sent back two spaces or paying a fine.  This time as we came off the elevator on the 6^th floor and headed passed the nurses station, we waved at our favorite nurse, who excitedly waved back and she immediately requested Miki for tomorrow’s shift, while we settled in to room 609.  Yes, we play favorites for various reasons, but I can easily find the “Nutrition Room” to get ice (for Miki) and a soda pop (for me) with my eyes closed, from any given hallway on the floor…we’ve now had a room in each.

Not that 12 days in a hospital is all that many, but for us, for the most part, having been on the other side, being the visitor vs. the visitee most of our hospital career, I am ready to be done with it and I know Miki is on the same page.  I don’t want to diminish the seriousness of what Miki is experiencing, but there are some SICK people here.  People that no one would want to trade illnesses for.  I am thankful that Miki will be helped here and will work her way back into some kind of normalcy.  For some of these folks, it appears that is not an option.  I have been struggling with all the pain and suffering…I take that back…I have been more aware of the number of people struggling with their health.  I count myself very lucky.

Finally, a tip of the hat to how strong Miki has been.  It has been approximately 2 months since this game began.  60 days on pain meds that have some side effects we see and some we don’t.  The dry mouth that keeps her reaching for ice chips, her fingers and toes twitching as if to music, but there is none, and a parallel universe, as she describes it, when she closes her eyes and another world carries on.  Eight weeks of a leg segregated from the rest of her body, a few moments of emotional collapse, and coming to grips with a healthy lifestyle that has not been a detour around this obstacle.  Yet she is her own best cheerleader and has attracted a crowd of positive participants.  As if the wave done at a sporting event is the love and support she has attracted, the wave just keeps coming.

As the first drips of her chemotherapy make their way into her body, we cheer for Team Etoposide/Cisplatin (the chemo cocktail) to find the opposition and give it a good ass whoopin’!  A necessary evil, but we cheer for her to be stronger than Wonder Woman and to come back to us whole.  "Chemo" means having to do with chemicals. It is usually a prefix on a bigger word like chemotherapy.  It has begun.

Wrapped in her cocoon, infused with love, treatment begins.

 

My Zen from Home:  Those of you that know me, know me as a huggy, touchy feely kind of guy that wants to know your deepest, darkest emotions, and in turn will share mine with you…NOT!  But it has occurred to me that I have not been touching Miki as much as I want or need to.  I think some of it is because of the gravity of this situation we find ourselves in and I need to remember to feel a little more and take a break from the seriousness of it all.