Falling asleep at chemo and other cancer adventures

Never a dull moment. 

Yesterday, I got my second round of chemo. I was grateful. During my doctor's visit last week, she had commented that my white blood cell count was very low and if it didn't come up A LOT this week, I would have to postpone getting chemo or worst case scenario...stop it. This chemo is my last line of treatment. If this doesn't work, I go on palliative care. So, I tried to rest up this week. My sister reminded me that she said many, many rosaries for me. 

Either she has an in with God or my body went into overdrive because when I skulked into the doctor's office yesterday, sure I was going to be walking right back out with bad news, she informed me that I had squeaked by. 

"Your white blood cell count is good, but your neuts are just under normal, but not so low that you can't get chemo. We're going to go ahead with it at a lower dose and hope it doesn't send your electrolytes into the toilet." 

Well. Good news. I am SO not used to that. 

So, I got the chemo....along with a bag of potassium, magnesium and anti nausea meds. Went home and went to bed at the ripe old time of 4 p.m. 

Woke up this morning to go in to get a bag of nutrients and sodium. I had an early appointment but the joint was jumping. 

My nurse, Misty, explained that Friday was panic day. "Everyone knows that they have to get through the weekend, so they want to come in and get a bag to help them get through. I get it, I'd be much the same myself, if I were in their shoes." 

I sat down and was joined ten minutes later by Brother Iggy. His real name is Brother Ignatius but I am not particularly reverent and dubbed him Brother Iggy. To be honest, it was a test. If he got all smug and uppity with me, I would have expected it. But, he laughed. And then shot right back that he would just call me Sassy Pants. We have been good friends ever since. I was surprised at this but he is easy going and admits that he absolutely detests Trump and that sold me. 

"I can't be behind a man who brags about trying to talk Marla Maples into getting an abortion in a book, but then stands on a stage and acts as if he is the Pope's right hand man on the subject of abortion. I am a Jesuit, not a simple minded dolt." 

I reminded him that most politicians lie. 

"Not as blatantly as this joker."

How could I NOT like him?

We have had many, many discussions since then and have differed on many subjects, but what is nice is that our talks have all been respectful and we have both admitted that we see the other's point even if we disagree with it. He told me that I exercise his brain. I've told him that my chemo fog seems to disintegrate a little when I'm talking to him. 

So, I liked seeing Brother Iggy. He always brings a book and so do I and our first point of discussion is usually about them. I was reading "The Dutch House" and he was properly excited that it was a first edition, signed book. He was reading The Lottery. As we discussed them, I felt myself relaxing more and more. 

And then woke up to find Nurse Misty gently shaking me. 

"Okay, Mrs. L...looks like you're done. Wow. You slept right through your beeper going off." 

I was stunned awake. I had only been sitting for a few moments when Brother Iggy came in. So, I had been asleep for over an hour. I felt a strange wetness on the side of my face and...horrified...reached up to find that I had been drooling. I sat up so that Misty could unplug my port and looked over to see Brother Iggy, his book propped in his lap, grinning at me. 

"God, I am SO sorry," I said.  

He laughed. "You kind of scared me there for a second. You just hung your head and went out like a light. But, then I noticed that you were still breathing, so I figured you were just sleepy." 

I sat while Misty put the bandage over my port and patted me to say goodbye. 

"But, HOW rude of me! I have never done that before!"

He smiled. "Or, maybe my rendition of The Lottery was just that boring."


"But...I drooled!"

He chuckled. "You certainly did. I actually wiped your mouth twice, but then that seemed too pushy, so I just let you leak." 

I tried to laugh along with him, but admit that I was mortified. I said goodbye to him and promised to be more scintillating the next time. 

"Sassy Pants, you are ALWAYS scintillating," he said, and waved his book at me. 

"Well, at least I didn't wet my pants," I countered, referring to something that has happened more than once to others while we were here. It is all a part of the chemo experience. Someone is always either ready to wet their pants or already has. I usually make a mental note of the chair and never sit in that one, although they do have a clean up team who is really, really thorough. And I do have sympathy. I have come extremely close to both wetting and shitting my pants at chemo but luckily made it to the bathroom just in time. And I have seen numerous people throwing up. Just part of the fun of chemo. I hope you never have to be a part of this group, but if you are, I hope you get to sit next to Brother Iggy. 

As I drove home, I thought about this. Fatigue. It is such a part of my life now that I rarely think of it, unless I am driving. (A great book to listen to on tape is Pete Buttigieg's Shortest Way Home...) I can fall asleep anywhere at any time now. 

In fact, it is nap time now. 

And to those of you who have been asking me when we get our kitty? It is looking like around Halloween. Fingers crossed.