Bald Women

As I write this, I am sitting in the chemotherapy room.  All the chairs are full today and that makes me sad.  Especially, when I see so many young people.  Guess I should be thankful and not sad, that all the others are hopefully getting the drugs they need to survive, just like me.  But today, there are so many women with no hair.  

I have been lucky with that part.  Though I did go through the grieving process for possibly losing my hair when first told chemo was the next step.  But so far, it has been okay.  Think I am even losing less hair than before.  Go figure.

When I look at the other people receiving treatments, it is always interesting to observe their interactions with the person accompanying them.  Doesn't take long to know which ones are happy and love one another, and which ones don't.  One lady sitting near me to the left, is obviously in much physical distress.  She is bald and wearing a clean white ball cap.  Her husband is with her.  She is weak with a barely audible voice.  Her husband is having to translate for her and let the chemo nurse know how she has been doing.  Apparently, not well.  She didn't stay long today, guess she was just getting a small dose of medication.

We are all wrapped up in blankets.  The medicine makes us cold.  The man beside me is getting a drug that makes him have to go to the bathroom every 30 minutes or so.  He is trying so hard to sleep, but his physical urges keep waking him up.  Across from me, I think it must two sisters.  They obviously care deeply for one another.  The well sister is being a "mother hen" and almost to the point I think it could become annoying after a bit.  But the sick sister doesn't have to move, her needs are being met.

There is a young man, maybe 25+ years old or so, that comes in every time I am here.  He is tall, cute, and lanky, with blonde floppy locks.  As best I can figure from observing what he has done, he must be getting a bone marrow transplant soon.  He comes in alone, never says very much, always quiet, and gets his procedure done behind the little curtains that can be pulled to provide privacy.

The stillness and quiet of the room is interrupted constantly by the beeping of the chemo drip machines.  Every time a medication runs out or a line is kinked, it beeps.  And with a full room, there are constant beeps.

It is starting to slow down now.  Only three of us left.  I have 2 more hours and then I will get my travel pump and be able to go home.  But, I must say, there is always something interesting going on here and the nurses are ever so helpful and attentive.  

Today was a good day for me.  Dr. Mahajan told me my cancer markers are down to 4.2.  That is good.  Last fall, when I was first tested, the marker was at 15.  Early March at the Mayo Clinic, it was at 9.  With the significant drop, Dr. Mahajan has decided to put off the CT scan until after the 6th treatment. I am having the 4th treatment today.  His reason for that is; the low marker count and the fact I have had so many scans and radiation treatments, he wants to be careful about any more exposure.  Works for me, especially when it is moving in the right direction.

About time this wagon load got a little lighter, if only in my mind.

PCQ