A little good luck, a little bad luck and a little pee

It has been a bouncy few days. Got the cat scan. My insurance would only cover a chest, pelvis, and abdomen scan, so I got that. The results were actually not bad. It showed that while none of my tumors were growing, they weren't shrinking either. In stasis. This is actually sort of good news to a cancer patient. No movement is good movement. 

So WHY the soaring CA-15 tumor markers? My oncologist and I talked about this. She thought it might be a fluke. Or that my RA was flaring. I sort of agreed. But. I have been having bouts of vertigo at night. This is troublesome and could indicate a brain tumor or tumors. OR. It could just be my Meniere's Syndrome flaring up and causing those tumor markers to go a little crazy. The human body is a mixed up bag. We are now in that dreaded watch and wait part. Since my health insurance only pays for one CA-15 test per month, I will stay on the Halaven since it seems to be keeping my liver, spine, and sternum tumors from growing. If the test shows more rapid growth at the end of February, we will get a head scan and a bone marrow check. 

I went in to get my Halaven yesterday. The joint was jumping. I got the last available seat. Right smack dab in front of the television. Which was on LOUD. And Donald Trump was standing in front of a podium doing that weird voice thing he does, sniffing like a meth addict and talking like a very stupid man. 

My chemo treatment is a 3 hour process. I have to not only get my chemo, but a bag of saline, bags of magnesium and potassium and three different types of anti-nausea drugs to keep me from throwing the chemo up in about 6-10 hours. 

I truly thought I might go mad if I had to watch Donald Trump talk for more than 5 minutes. Whenever he gives a press conference, etc., I always read the manuscript instead and check for the always multitude of blatant lies. It's a hobby. Plus, the channel was Fox News. Never to be relied on for the truth. 

As Mindy the nurse hooked me up, I asked her if I could change the channel. She reminded me of the infusion room rules: The first person in the room controls the remote. When they leave, they pass it off to the person of their choice. I could ask Frieda if we could change the channel. I asked Frieda. She sniffed at me. 

What is it about all this sniffing going on?

"No, " she said. "Fox news is the only news that I trust."

Oh, holy crow. One of those idiots. I didn't bother to argue. Instead of debate, they will say one of two things: 1) What about Hillary Clinton? (What OF her? She testified for ELEVEN hours, dumb ass. Donald was scared shitless of testifying for eleven seconds.) 2) If you don't like what is being said, it is fake news. (Even if I hand you public documents, it is fake news. You are fake news.) 

So, I sat there and was tortured with watching Donald for over an hour. I wished that I had remembered to bring my ear buds so that I could just listen to Springsteen or Nirvana. Even Captain and Tennille. I was that desperate. I glanced around me. Were all these people buying this nonsense? God, several were. Some, to their credit seemed to be reading. Others had smartly inserted ear buds. But, 4 people were listening happily. I was so glad that they weren't any of my friends. I like to think I chose my friends well. 

Finally, Frieda was done, but she handed the remote off to a fellow Donald fan. I was grateful that he did turn the volume down a lot. I tried to read. I was getting a massive headache and my stomach was hurting. The Havalen was working faster than usual. 

I made it through three hours of Fox News. Somebody give me a reward. 

As I limped back to my car, I repeated to myself like a mantra: DO NOT FORGET YOUR EAR BUDS TOMORROW. 

I went home and crawled into bed. Stayed there until I awakened at 3:00 a.m. badly needing to pee. I had, after all, just had over 2 liters of fluid dripped into my body. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and gingerly made sure that my knee was in the right socket. If I don't do this, I sometimes cannot stand. The need to pee was urgent. I stood up and made my way to the bathroom. Halfway there.....vertigo set in. Suddenly, I was on a madly tipping boat. The room was dipping up and down. I reached out with my arms and found our dresser. Held on while trying to get to the bathroom. 

I made it to the bathroom sink and then.....yes.....wet my pants. I burst into tears. T was there. She must have been in the bed with me. Great. She usually sleeps in the guest room now but when she is really worried about me, she climbs in with me and falls asleep. 

"WASS the madda?" she asked. She had her mouth guard in. I explained that I had just wet myself and to NOT come in. 

She came in. Such a good spouse. She could not care less if she had to step into my smelly toxic chemo urine to get to me. 

I gingerly lifted up my nightshirt. Pee was all down my legs. Luckily, I was standing on our thick bathroom rug which had soaked up all the pee. 

"IS nat do pad," she said. 

"FOR FUCK SAKES," I groused. "Would you please take out that damn mouth guard? You sound like Granny Clampett." 

I immediately felt ashamed. She was being nice and I had yelled. I was just embarrassed. She knew that. She took out her mouth guard, spittle flying up to hit my face, but I didn't comment. I mean, she was STANDING in my piss. 

We got me out of my bedclothes and she took the rug away to the porch. I took a shower. Climbed back to bed. She put her mouth guard in and climbed in with me. 

I gently suggested that she sleep in the guest room. She declined. Put her arms around me. 

"The alamm duzn co odd door 2 hous. I's seepin wid me baby." (The alarm doesn't go off for 2 hours. I am sleeping with my baby. I know mouth guard speak fluently now.) 

So, we slept. The alarm went off. We both got up because she had to go to work and I had to go in to the infusion room again to get my goody bag of nutrients and new anti-nausea drugs to help me fight off the chemo this weekend.

I got to the infusion room for my 7:45 appointment. I was the first one there, so quickly turned the TV to reruns of The Office.  My goody bag only lasts for 2 hours and I would get a B-12 shot to boot. 

A few people came in. One fellow took one look at me and said, "I could kiss you. I was here yesterday and the remote queen of the day forced me to watch Donald Trump. I honestly feel like he is just one more chemo to endure." 

That made me laugh. I told him that I had been here too and would never subject anyone to more than 2 minutes of that god awful sniffing. 

I got my goody bag and read my Stephen King book. My ear buds were safely tucked away in my purse, but I didn't need them. 

It will be a long weekend as the chemo swirls around my body. 

But, no Trump. 

No Trump.