Chemo Round Two

Nitasha is my date for round 2 of chemo. We met in law school through a mutual friend. I liked her right away (she's one of those people that everyone likes right away). She's easy going and friendly and just has an air about her that makes you want to be with her. One day we were taking a walk after one of our classes and she asked me if I wanted to drive to San Francisco for dinner (we were at UC Davis). I think she expected me to say no because she was shocked when I said, "Absolutely!" Once we realized our shared love of food - we fell in love and have been ever since. She's one of the few people I can be with for hours on end without getting annoyed and is probably the only person on earth I can travel with for extended periods of time except for Boris. So it's fitting that Boris and I call her our wife. She getting married soon but rather than giving her up to her fiance, we've informed him that we're adopting him into the marriage, like one happy polygamist family.

Nitasha picks me up on time (quite a feat!). Miles and our nanny are playing outside. As I'm leaving I kiss Miles. He waives and repeatedly says "bye, bye, byeeeee." I melt (because he's so delicious and it's a million degrees outside). We arrive at Tower at 1000am and are led to my chair for the day. The first order of business is a blood draw to see how I'm doing. Anne tells me to take a deep breath in and exhale as she sticks the tubing into my port. "Owww!" I exclaim. "Hmmmm" she says. She's not getting any blood and starts moving the tube around. I start sweating as it hurts like hell. "Keep breathing," Anne says. "Sometimes the tube hits the side of the port so if I can't get this in, we may have to start again." Oh shit. Oh shit. She tells me that this happens a lot but she doesn't like to tell patients since it's quite traumatic. We have to start again. I'm traumatized. She pulls the tubing out, and I'm pricked (a major understatement if you've ever seen the size of the tubing used with a port) again. I want to cry it hurts so bad - but I don't because I look up at Nitasha and she looks like she's going to cry. I tell her I'm okay and just need to mop my face off and take some deep breaths.

Anne comes back with my blood results and says my numbers are great. But then Angela comes over and says my white blood count is really high. Too high, she thinks. I had told both of them that Dr. Funk suggested Dr. McAndrew look at my left breast to see if she thought it was infected. Given my high white blood white count, Angela wants to take a look right away. She does and what she sees is apparently really bad because she starts shaking her head and saying "oh no" and "I'm going to get Dr. McAndrew right away," and "this isn't good," and a flury of other statements that scare the shit out of me. Dr. McAndrew comes in and looks a little alarmed as well, although, like Dr. Funk, she thinks it would be unusual for me to have an infection without pain or a fever. She tells me that some pregnant women have really high white blood counts and has Angela call Dr. Ottavi. Dr. Ottavi is amazing as usual and gets on the phone immediately. She tells Angela that last year when I was pregnant with Miles, my white counts were about the same as they are now. So, Dr. McAndrew decides that I'm okay and can move forward with today's chemo infusion.

So an hour after arriving, we finally begin. The rest of the day is thankfully uneventful. Boris brings us lunch and by 300pm, I'm hydrated and poisoned and can go home. My head is killing me and I feel slugish. It's amazing to me how fast the drugs work. Within hours, my indigestion is back. But...it could be worse. That's my mantra. And I can't wait to see Miles. As Anne is cleaning my port before I leave, she asks if I want to leave the needle in to avoid any possible torture the next day at hydration. Great idea, I think. I'll avoid being stuck with the tube any day. But it was a bad choice.

By nighttime, my arm is so incredibly sore that I don't want to move it. And my left breast is so swollen and red it's shocking. Boris fears the stitches might burst. I email Dr. Funk to ask her if this is normal or if I get to see her...again tomorrow. Just another thing to worry about. Fabulous. She reassures me that the swelling is a result of all the fluids I've been given and that I'm okay. She's right. By morning things are back to normal (if that's even possible under the circumstances).

2 rounds down. 4 to go.