Day 1, Cycle 6

I was in such a good mood this morning.

Today, as it turned out, I had cancer. I spent seven hours and fifteen minutes at the hospital waiting for today’s treatment of Doxorubicin and Velcade and transport. It is Day 1 of my last cycle on PADIMAC. The rest of my cycle better not be like this. Please. I need a life that is not just this.

On Day 1, before I get my main drugs, I have to have a blood test, my vitals, a pregnancy test (to confirm, despite several imaginary attempts, I am not pregnant) and receive fluids and anti-sickness medication. All in, it should be done in 90 minutes. Today, everything and anything after midday was a shambles and the 90 minutes was but a dream set in a meadow in the Spring, with me wearing white and doing carthwheels.

I had counselling this morning at 11:00hrs and landed on the second floor at 11:55hrs. Fine. I was jolly, the counselling was productive and my outfit only contained some black today. Being the selfish person I am, I had already informed the hospital that I had been double booked and asked that I be checked in at 11:00hrs still because I have now experienced ten Mondays before this one, and know that they run slightly behind schedule and offered to have my bloods tested elsewhere to speed up the process. It did not speed up the process.

I understand that there are staff shortages and the nurses cannot come in if they are sick, but this is the excuse I hear every Monday and to be honest, Tuesday. I am 28 years old and want to live as much of my life as I can, but alas, today was wasted sitting on a chair with only my tired brain for company.

My day actually started at 09:00hrs, at which time I was ready to leave the flat as instructed. Once I realised that it was going to be at least a nine hour day, I spent 90 minutes crying (on and off) because I had to cancel my plans this evening, because it dawned on me that I could no longer have the time to fulfil my Christmas Baking Gift Challenge and because all of it was completely out of my control. My day was about My Myeloma and only that, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I suppose, I cannot complain too much, for my lunch was provided, and I am a very lucky to have had the corned beef sandwich on white. It was a culinary delight. Okay, I am reaching here, but I do not want to be a completely negative person. My heart is warm and I am kind. I am not usually somebody who is rude to her nurse.

As well as the above, today I learnt, in the context of cancer and the cannula what ’tissued’ means. It is not pleasant. My cannula was fitted two hours before I was attached to anything, the first being the anti-sickness drug. There were no issues with the application, it flushed well and it was almost pleasant. I gushed. Somebody then, during the two hours wait, moved, a lot it would seem because somebody managed to bend the cannula so that it was no longer in a vein. Unfortunately, this was only discover after they had tried to put the drugs in my arm, which then looked like the photographs below but worse. For a period, my arm looked like it had half a golf ball in it. It’s going to bruise and the vein is still like one of Madonna’s..



Oh, and I managed to fracture another rib last night in my sleep. In my sleep. Score.

So that was my day. It sucked. I am exhausted and cannot write nor speak with any enthusiasm.

Tomorrow will be better.


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4 thoughts on “Day 1, Cycle 6

  1. HillSilNH says:

    Oh No. I can totally relate. These days suck! You may want to get a port-a-cath. They put it in your body and access is so much easier. Keep on hanging in.

  2. Sharpy Sharpster says:

    Hi Emma, I’m so sorry you had such a shit day. I’m also seen at UCH, but on an ‘occasional’ basis in the supposed run-up to an SCT. I get to see Dr Doom and inevitably have to wait on average 3 hours to see him and therefore lose the will to live, so to speak 😉 This is on top of an hour’s drive each way in always torrential rain. I still don’t know how that happens; ‘As well a you having a shit disease, you will also have impossible driving conditions to get to your 10 minute appt that you will wait hours for’. I’m all for the proposed Skype consultations! Anything to avoid that god awful decor. It’s just not effin’ good enough. Grrrrrrr!!!! XxX

  3. dear emma,

    thank your lucky stars you have this blog; what a sucky day! i hope writing about it helps even just a little bit.

    a new rib fractured? in. your. sleep. i will send waves and wave of wishes for you not to have bad pain. same for your arm. and so disappointing to miss out on the baking gift challenge; i KNOW you would have won, hands down. yes, tomorrow – it’s got to be better…tomorrow.

  4. Dear Emma, I am going to dedicate a blog entry to you for being such a trooper through such a tedious day… I will call it “Emma Enduring” and remind my readers that even on their roughest days, if they don’t have MM, they should STOP complaining because they may have to wait in a line, or get stuck in traffic, or have weather interfere with their plans, but all of that is better than spending the days with nurses bollocking up IV lines. Intending your days are better.

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