Ouch. That hurt.
Well, 48 hours after port surgery, I’m all accessorized with nowhere to go. The port is a huge wake-up call. Nothing quite says you’ve arrived at destination sicko like a medical device surgically implanted under your skin and snaked into your jugular for the sole purpose of dumping vast quantities of toxic drugs into your bloodstream.
(Shoot, I was REALLY going to work on my sunny-side attitude for this post! sorry honey)
I guess this means I’m really going through with this crazy “chemo-thing.” I mean now that I have a cool port, I might as well use it. Shopping for Friday’s first infusion felt much like back-to-school shopping when I was a kid. I pushed the cart around Target with a mile-long list as Mary chucked things into the basket with a spare-no-expense attitude. Ginger lozenges? Check. Hand sanitizer? Check. Dry-mouth gum? Check. (Jeez, gum to ward off dry mouth. I mean, who knew? Not me if it weren’t for the lovely cancer ladies who went online and posted all of their horrible chemo side effects and fix-it tips. Thank you cancer ladies!)
So, after Mary and I spent the morning paying medical bills and the afternoon buying special lotions, eye drops, and mouth rinses, it hit me. What if cancer is all that’s keeping our economy afloat these days? Sheesh, if the 200,000 women diagnosed with breast cancer this year, plus millions of other Americans with dozens of other cancers, are out at CVS dropping cash like me and Mary. Well, hot damn—I think I found the sunny side!
God love America.
At this point me thinks you are the most prepared couple for the journey. Thanks for the post, it make us all feel a little less helpless, because you know there are a firece group of us out here who are there to help.
Thinking of both of you.
Mary and Joe
PS: We had fun dancing with you at the wedding Saturday. ( I never knew Joe could do the robot!)
Have a look at my 2 year journey through ops and treatments in my blog: Glamotherapy.com It might help
Hi – I’m an online friend of Eileen, going through chemo for breast cancer after a lumpectomy. Four runs of TC. If there’s anything I can do to be of help in how things have gone for me, please let me know. You’re not alone, you’ll get through the chemo horrors, and I know you know that. I’m so sorry you have to do it, but this too shall pass. My good thoughts are with you even though I don’t know you. And you’re too right about the breast cancer epidemic and economic industry. (Also, I list my “after cancer diagnosis” blog on livejournal above if you want to visit.) All Best, Elyce
Loved your blog!