Next stop for the medical travelator today, is day oncology for my first dose of chemotherapy.
Always great to have a bit of chemo to start your day, or ‘health nectar’ as I like to call it. Of course I’m a little, anxious and it seems surreal that I’m back here again.
The brave man is with me. He squeezes my hand and reminds me that this is my first day of getting better again. The troops are on their way in with fresh juice, magazines and coffee. Believe it or not, but it’s quite the social gathering. There’s nothing like a bit of a chin wag with your girlfriends whilst 2 litres of lethal chemicals are being transfused into your body.
As I see the familiar faces of the oncology nurses, I get lots of hugs and kind smiles my anxiety drifts away.
The troops arrive and it’s so lovely to catch up and feel the love and support around me. I’m so caught up in conversation that I don’t even feel Nurse Jo put the needle into my chest to hook me up.
As I watch Nurse Jo getting organised, I think to myself, “Isn’t it reassuring to see her holding the IV bag, (that’s about to be transfused into my body) wearing industrial goggles, rubber gloves and a lead lined apron. This stuff is one lethal weapon!”
Speaking of the nurses in oncology, who can only be described as amazing angels. They are so kind and gentle that they even make the word suppository sound like a calming Buddhist meditation. It takes an extraordinary person to be an oncology nurse.
So I was excited to have my little god daughter come to visit me. She’s only two and with eyes as big as saucers she stares at the goings on, so much to take in with the busy nurses, sick patients and the beeping machines. She sits on my lap quiet as a mouse, cuddly like a koala and warm as a wheat pack.
As I’m getting koala cuddles, a new face comes over. A nurse I hadn’t seen before looks adoringly at Dusty, “so…….… is this your granddaughter?”
Immediately I ask myself, “have I just had the chemo injected directly into my brain and did this woman just ask me what I thought she just asked me? Do I really look that old?“
Oh god, if she thinks I look old now, imagine what she’s going to say to me when my hair falls out?? She’ll see my brave man and commend him for turning up to visit his mum!
Suffice to say, she didn’t hang around for too long when she realised her faux pas. Note to self ….. Telling someone they look old when they’re having chemo is probably not the best way to make them feel better or boost their self-esteem!
After a few hours I’m done and back on the medical travelator for the next stop…… hospital for one more night then home.
I lie in bed and wait for the ‘health nectar’ to work its magic!