A recipe for living with cancer.

I do not have my normal stamina but I made it through berry picking getting a whopping 6 pounds of berries, no sunburn and a contemplative day with nature.  Last year we picked blueberries took a short break and went back out and picked raspberries. The wonder of picking your own berries reminds us of the labor involved to enjoy those sweet little morsels, the reason for their cost and our role in the balance  of nature.

The day of chemo treatment 2!

Falling asleep was difficult last night as I started to replay what would transpire in the green vinyl chair number 2. It’s odd they assign you a chair number and when you walk in they tell you to take any chair you like, I ended up in chair 4 today. I take one by the window thinking of wistfully gazing out on a calming scene of snow-capped mountains maybe a moose or bison gracefully walking off in the distance, clouds gently floating past the peaks.

The windows are large, extending the length of three rooms with white shades making the room bright and I don’t want to say cheerful, but it’s bright.  There is a wide window ledge and counter ledge filled with an odd assortment of: pamphlets, pillows, books, magazines, a box for “Daisy Award” nominations (can’t see what it is but I might look when I’m done–I will want to bolt out of here I  won’t look) two baskets filled with handmade chemo caps, a white styrofoam models head with a burnt orange knitted cap pulled down over the eyes to the white foam nose, almost as if to say…if I can’t see it or hear it maybe it’s not really happening.   My calming view out the window…..the wall of a building, but it’s bright.

Poking and prodding three times to start the IV did not make me feel confident in the days events.  I had the same Nurse who is excellent, but for some reason my body was not cooperating, hence all the gauze and tape in the picture.  She gets it going and now starts the evil red liquid and I need to concentrate on whether it’s burning. Concentrate, yeah right,  I’ll know it’s burning.  The good news is the chemo is working the tumor has reduced in size by 2/3s after just one treatment. The methodical drip drip drip pause, drip drip drip pause of the second drug and the insistent  relentless drip drip drip drip of the concurrent saline brings me one drip closer to freedom from cancer. Another crossroad one drip at a time.

PS: it turns out every nurse was having a hard time with the IV’s, they said “must be a bad batch of needles.”  Yeah a bad batch of needles, scary!


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