87. Number 5

Well.  I've left it far too long to write this.  Every time I tried, though, the thought made me feel so sick I couldn't bring myself to do it.  BUT.  Number 6 is looming so I must.

I was OKish the morning of chemo 5.  I stayed in bed as long as possible but eventually had to get up.  Just had a cup of Earl Grey (normal tea tastes metallic now, yuk) and no food.  Don't want to give the sickness ANYTHING to work on.  I phoned the hospital to ask for my favourite (Least hated.  OK, OK, so that's unfair.  Whatever) chemo nurse.  The one I spoke to was the quietly spoken but slow male nurse I had for chemo 1.  He took my request but said he couldn't promise anything.

When we got there, lo and behold, we waited.  And waited.  Now, I know EVERYONE waits for medical appointments but being forced to wait for chemo is above and beyond what is fair and rational.  In, get it over with, out.  That really is the best (again, least worst) way.  Finally, finally, I was taken through.  And waited again.  When my nurse (not the one I'd asked for) did come over, she gave me the Emend anti sickness and agreed I needed to wait an hour.  I asked if we could go away and wait somewhere else and she agreed.  We went down to the cafe.  R had coffee and I had a fruit tea. 

We went back and waited AGAIN.  I left R reading in the chemo room and paced around outside in the waiting area.  It was preferable to being in that room.  Being in there makes me feel sick even when I'm having nothing done.  Eventually I went back.  The nurse came back and I asked for hot water to bring my veins to the surface.  She told me to put my hand under the tap, which I did.  She came back and off we went. 

I was pathetic.  She put the canula in and it hurt. I could feel myself tearing up and she was good.  She finished inserting it and THEN was nice to me.  Bad move.  It made me worse.  She started injecting (urgh, NOW I'm feeling sick just writing this) and I tried really hard to read.  No luck.  I varied between trying to read and sitting with my eyes closed.  Periodically, she tried to make conversation but I wasn't up to it while that poison was going into me.  After syringe 2 or 3, it started to sting.  I told her, but she insisted it was OK.  I was jumpy, restless and just downright shit.  By the last of the 5 syringes the stinging was constant.  I told her and she again tried to reassure me.  I don't know, maybe it WAS in my head.  Maybe not.  Only one way out of there though...