Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya. Yesterday (chemo day 4) was a shitty, shitty day. MOstly because ATG sucks monkey cock. Yeah, I said it. In the morning I had four hours of chemo (fludarabine and busulfan) followed by four hours of ATG (devil's brew) with the addition of 15 (yeah, Mom and I counted FIFTEEN) other drugs. One of them was morphine. Fuck yeah. There were about two hours during the middle of the day when I was lucid enough to sit upright and talk to Mom, but then I found myself tossing my cookies for the rest of the night. Hey, reminder: cancer blog. There's no chemo without puking. :) One of the wierdest things about yesterday was that I can't remember a lot of it. SOme one you may have heard, but evidently I make Grey's Anatomy references when hopped up on 50 mg Benedryl + Morphine + Anti-seizure drugs. Sweet./
Story goes like this: Transfusing of ATG started at 10 am, just after chemo and pre-meds to prevent allergic reaction. The doctor's choose THIS TIME to rotate. Yeah, THIS FUCKING TIME. To come in and ask me how I feel. Um, bastards, how do you think I feel? SO. I remember looking up from my bed, where I'm laying looking all cancery, and notice that there are like, seven doctor's standing over me. My transplant doctor starts yamming at me (I don't recall a damn thing he said) and then asks me if I have any questions. In my mind I'm thinking "damn, this looks like those scenes in Grey's Anatomy when the doctors go stand over a patient and start yelling out answers" so my dumb ass looks up and SAYS "Yeah, where's Dr. McDreamy?". They totally got my joke. Which was interesting because after the fact I couldn't figure out if I had actually said it, until P so kindly reminded me that I'm a freak. And then their nervous laughter made sense. The rest of the day was spent slipping in and out of sleep feeling like I had been hit by the worst flu of my life. Oh yeah, and the neuropathy has kicked in. My hands and tongue are all tingly. There was even one point where the ATG was effecting me by making my face TICKLE. Not tingle (duh nurses) but TIKLE. Like I didn't know whether to laugh or scream. Wierd stuff.
You know what? I can deal. I told Mom and P yesterday, and I'll say it again, there have been times in my life when I've been sicker. Next door, there is a four month old baby. Four months. In what universe is that fair? If that baby can do it. If her parents can do this, I can pull on my big girl panties and do this. Motherfucker.
I did take some pics yesterday, I'll post a bit more as soon as the internet is up and running again in my room:) And please don't spoil the Real Housewives Finale facebook friends! Trashy TV is good for the soul.
Thank you all for the comments and e-mails and text messages. It was great to come-to today and see all of them. I felt my heart surge toward Philly:) MIss you all, love you and can't wait to come home!