Settled Into a Familiar Routine

Wednesday - July 25, 2012

All settled in!

Yes, it's 3:45 a.m. and I am back in my familiar pre-dawn typing spot here in Critical Care Hospital 2 room 132, occasionally glancing at the street lights stretching east below the wide, tall black sky, and awaiting the arrival of a vivid red sunrise.  Why am I back to this ridiculously early schedule?  Perhaps it's attributable to the start-up of mega-steroid dexamethasone; the 3 a.m. meeting with multiple RNs as they hung chemo, drew blood, and took vitals; the vivid images and perseverative thoughts of rescue dogs and strays doomed for euthanasia that linger from yesterday's reading of the Washington Post and lifewithdogs.com; or just an overall deep desire to be back home - snoozing alongside Joe, Sadie splayed between our pillows, Baxter burrowed beneath the duvet at our feet, and Dusk on guard somewhere by the perimeter of the house, hunting frogs and salamanders that he may later deposit at our feet (use your imagination - he does this in various ways).  Anyway, sleep right now is impossible.  I shall try to grab some more downtime before shift change at 7 a.m.

Some comfort level certainly exists when encountering a familiar rhythm, environment, and staff.  Joe and I have this VCU admission routine DOWN!  Joe found the nearest possible street parking spot just across  the street from the Critical Care Hospital entrance- boo-yah!  The Ammiratis all LOVE an optimal parking spot as much as George Costanza!  We then took advantage of the most efficient route and walked (not too quickly) up the back staff stairs to the oncology floor, knocked hard, and were let in by a surprised housekeeper.  Unpacking was a breeze and the bed was soon made, "standing desk" assembled and tricked out, and water bottle filled.  Joe followed Carolyn's earlier precedent and taped closed the flapping adjunct (for extra wide access) to the bathroom before heading out for a hunting /gathering mission for frozen yogurt.  Joe is now a fro-yo connoisseur and I am the lucky beneficiary!  How many lymphoma patients gain weight?  This recent diet seems to confound the odds!

Port accessed?  Check!  Port accessed by a new RN doing the procedure for the first time under the tutelage of one of my most familiar RNs and the silent observation of the attending oncologist?  Check!  (She was terrific).   First chemo hung by 2:30?  Check!  Progress made on organizing my desktop and uploading lesson plans and resources to my cloud?  Check!  R&R by my beautiful wide window appreciating a dramatic sky and cloudscape?  Check!  NYT Crosswords?  But of course!  What's a girl to do?!

I have had two new chemo symptoms creep up.  Before my lumbar puncture on Monday, I showed Kevin the curious white lines that have appeared on my fingernails.  "Ah, tree rings!  They'll grow right out!" he replied.  "Some people actually lose their fingernails during chemo."  And THAT's where I decided I didn't need to hear more just then....  But I couldn't resist a little judicious research yesterday - on the tree rings, not nail loss  :) I learned that "Mee's Lines" are an indication of arsenic and other poisons and do indeed grow out.  I am indeed being poisoned - that is what chemo is.  Some chemo patients manifest each chemo cycle with a separate horizontal line for each treatment thus truly emulating tree rings.  The second symptom may not be as benign; last night I had two (brief) bouts of nausea.  Funnily, the first incident happened 4 hours after I had finished dinner.  Standing up (stretching out my GI track) and a quick dose of compazine settled the problem.  The second bout occurred when I was going to bed - no compazine necessary after stretching and moving.  But could these two moments be harbingers of future nausea?  Hope not!

Jonathan has admonished me about doing too much internet research but I am conflicted about the wish / need for a second opinion and need some informatin.  Joe and I are trying to determine where to get that second opinion (Will I need to travel?  CAN I travel?)  and are also fully vetting VCU's experience and competence on BMTs, particularly allogeneic BMTs.  We are literally putting my life in the hands of the BMT center.  Research is necessary!  And mortality rates are part of that research.  I can't help but absorb and weigh the data.  However, the odds are strong, I am strong, and Joe is my greatest and most affectionate cheerleader.  I think he may believe in me more than I believe in myself.

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Success!  Grabbed more than 1.5 hours (interrupted) sleep AND managed to be dressed before the intern arrived on her rounds!