I woke up this morning, after I had crashed in my bed the day before, knowing that I was ready. Something had shifted. I was ready to start my new treatment cycle, and as angry as I am, moping is not going to change things. So, I woke up ready to attack this motherfucker with drugs funded by your tax money, and I think I am ready its side effects.
Having read the guidance yesterday, I took my time depositing with the greatest of ease this morning because I know that that is going to become difficult again. Bloody shit. Linseed will also be making a return, that’s for sure. Once I was finished doing that, <em>twice</em>, I got dressed. Some would say that I was overdressed for a trip to Daycare, but I do not give a damn. It continues to be my armour. You know that there was a Mac Matte on my luscious lips. <em>Something about me has to remain luscious</em>. Dancing around the flat in my bra and skirt may have seemed overkill, but it made me feel like Sharon Stone and it just confirmed that I was <em>ready</em>.
The chrome coloured lining is that I have been through this before. I know the tricks of the trade and I will use them to make <em>this</em> easier. Upon arrival at the Macmillan Centre I took myself to the Lower Ground Floor where my favourite Blood Taking Man took my blood, because I had the foresight to pick up a blood form yesterday. I then went up a floor to check that my prescription was ready after being deposited yesterday. <em>It wasn’t.</em> I expected this, I have been through it all before, remember? So I smiled politely and said I would be back. I made my way up the Second Floor also known as Daycare, at 11:00hrs. The best time to receive drugs for you get a free lunch. I did not need to check in, I just said hello to my favourite iPhone Loving Receptionist and that was it. It was like the last three months had never happened. The Medically Trained People were saying hello, seeing how I was and I managed to be glued to my iPhone, iPad and iPod all at the same time. It was normal. A normal to which I have become accustomed since this all started six months ago. When I was called over, a mere ten minutes later, I made my way to my favourite red seat next to the power points and settled on down.
Now, I said to the Medically Trained People yesterday that I wanted to be in and out in an hour. It was actually 90 minutes, but I will let them off that because I asked for some extra drugs yesterday and I was surprised to find this waiting to be administered today. That meant a cannula, but I love the Zometa too much to complain. Cannula’s are not a regular occurrence with VTD.
So there I sat, in my favourite red chair getting the drugs and knowing the forms. I was all zeros today, which means no side effects. That will come. I had my blood pressure taken sitting and standing. They didn’t need to tell me, I knew that was coming too. If this is what I have to do once a week, then so be it. I am ready.
At Velcade Time, when the second nurse arrived, I excitingly declared “Emma Jane Jones. 24th of the 5th, 1984. In the stomach please.” And that was it. It was done. Well almost, my nurse, who had evidently never met me before insisted that I had a blue book to record my appointments. Like I said, she clearly had never met me before. As with PADIMAC, that book will last a week. I do not forget my appointments. I then picked up a blood form for next week and got the lift downstairs, where I collected my bag of goodies, which by this point in time was ready. ID at the ready because I was collecting a controlled substance.
Tonight I have to give myself an injection and take my thalidomide and that will be my Day One done. It’s like the first time all over again.
So I finish as I started. <em>Bring. It.On.</em> <strong>I am ready.</strong>
P.S. If you want a laugh, try listening to me pronounce ‘thalidomide’. It’s impossible I tell you. Impossible.