Day one... ish

The first day of chemotherapy and radiation was not the nightmare I had envisioned. I actually enjoyed myself, apart from not having enough to eat, but that's on me.

I got a juice box. And a glass of water with a (plastic! bendy straw).

Said juice box. The perks of chemotherapy.

Apart from all the medical stuff, the day was busy as I chose to launch my blog and announce to various friends and social platforms that I had cancer. I was inundated with likes, comments, messages and the like. Not that I'm complaining. The outpouring of love and support was nearly overwhelming but, frankly, nothing less than I deserve.

Those that expressed dismay that I was still alive can go kick rocks. You know who you are. Pricks. Back atcha.

One downside was that I had to miss a free company lunch to celebrate a colleague having been there for 20 years. That is pretty incredible in IT. My boss actually seemed disappointed when I told him I would be unable to attend. He pointed out I was one of the team. Not bad for just over three weeks.

While I'm at work, my employers have been very understanding. Shortly after I started, I had to drop the bombshell that I had cancer and would be starting treatment in a few weeks (it ended up being quicker than I'd originally thought). They told me they would need to think about how to handle it and would get back to me. I was well aware that termination was well within the realm of possibility as I'd only just started. Between treatments and other appointments, especially leading up to the treatments, I would be lucky to put in a 30 hour work week.

The next day they called me into a meeting, wished me well, and offered sympathies. They told me they were firmly behind me and we would sort this out. I was so relieved.

No one is treating me any differently than I would expect in a small IT firm. I am starting to get clients and will be ramping up my work load in the coming days and weeks. Which is good as I'm still in my probationary period and I don't get paid if I don't work nor do I have benefits.

The treatments will not last forever.

I arrived and scored a great parking spot. Made all the better because I got a parking pass the day before. It now costs me about the same amount for a month as it would per week paying regularly.

That being said... WTF AHS? Having to pay for fucking parking to get cancer treatments? I get that the amount to park for a day is less than an hour downtown, but seriously, fuck right off! This is some serious level bullshit.

Note I am not putting the blame on Arthur Child or the various hospitals that are forced by our lovely government (may they all rot in hell). In fact, Kudos for having dedicated motorcycle parking, which I fully intend to take advantage of as I was allowed to add my bike to my parking pass as well.

And.... they credited me for everything I'd previously paid using the AHS parking app this month. So I'm not even pissed at the guys working the booth, trying to eke out a living. But fuck this government and anyone who voted for them. And this coming from a life-long (progressive) conservative.

Fuck the UPC.

But I digress again...

My chemo Pod... and chair.

I arrived at my first chemo appointment not really knowing what to expect. I was ushered into my pod. It was a pleasant enough room, all things considered. It was roomy enough for moving all sorts of equipment around and, presumably, in case I shit the bed and they need to rush in a crash cart.

That's when I spied the IV needle and drug bag.

Drugs! (Hear that in a George Carlin voice). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KKiwKnx3Ajc

Early George Carlin always takes me back when I was introduced to his work. As much as grade 10 in Lethbridge was  a year to forget, I had one class, I enjoyed. Largely because of the excellent teacher we had. This was 1978-79. He was a cool guy, full beard, jeans, and a casual way of relating to a class full of hormone, moronic teenagers.

He played us George Carlin, occasionally. I distinctly remember him playing cuts from Class Clown. Not every cut, mind you. Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television was on that album, after all. We all made sure we got to hear it after class. Most of us could (and some of us still can) repeat it almost verbatim).

I am not planning on naming people in this blog without their permission, but in this case I will make an exception. He was Gary Scovil. One of the finest teachers and men it has been my honour to meet.

Now suitably excited, I settled myself into my chair and waited to be hooked up.

I should point out, I've never had a problem with needles and I have found a great respect for the efficiency of IV drugs whether it be prophylactic or analgesic. (Fuck off, I've been hanging around a lot of medicos lately. Look them up.)

I'm also rather impressed by the general lack of pain inflicted by those who administer the IVs and draw blood (which has not only become far too frequent, but I now have a standing order for the next several months). Apparently this shit doesn't end once the treatments are complete.

That being said, you can easily pick out the newbies.

Hooked up. By a pro.

The chair is basically a medical version of a La-Z-Boy®. It reclines (I didn't use that feature) and has the foot rest that operates just like the chair everyone's parents had in the basement in '70s. However, unlike said retro-chair, these are not upholstered, but are covered with a vinyl-esque material that I assume is far easier to clean off various bodily fluids. I managed to only get a few muffin crumbs on it which I dutifully cleaned up without assistance.

I was tethered to my old friend, the wheeled hat stand with various beeping accoutrements. This allowed me to wander off to the pissoir as required. Which was frequent as they started me off with a litre of saline in the first hour followed by the drugs (again... George voice), and then another litre of saline in the third hour.

Add to that my bonus apple juice and a large class of water (with the plastic! bendy straw) and I must have pissed 4 or 5 times before I left.

My hat stand and me taking a break. 

It was pointed out to me that this photo angle is a tad unfortunate. I would like to dispel any thoughts that I had cosmetic surgery to install a chromed phallus. Nor am I violating it. Even I have some sense of decency and wouldn't have posted THAT photo. It would be on my Only Fans.

After chemo was done, I was off to a consultation to see how things were going. I ended up being tag-teamed (not like that, unfortunately) by a nurse and my nutritionist. I actually had a phone appointment booked with her on Thursday. We decided to keep it but make it in person as I would be kicking around anyway and had time between the dentist and radiation as we couldn't cover everything in the half hour we had.

We had a good chat and I was informed in order to ensure I don't lose weight, I should increase my fat intake. I believe I have a crush on my nutritionist.

They seem to keep booking me follow-up appointments. Presumably to ensure I'm not losing my mind or dying faster than they feel is appropriate.

Next it was off to radiation where I was reacquainted with my mask.

But first, the gown.

They asked me to don a medical gown. Now, I rather dislike these things as I find I'm not very good at tying them up behind me. Add to that, it needs to be undone and lowered for the mask and treatment.

Now, maybe it's just me, but this seems like a colossal waste of time and just creates needless laundry. And we ARE under water restrictions currently.

I mentioned this to the radiation technicians and they explained that, especially in winter, people would often have several layers of clothing so it was more expeditious for them to have people change before they called them in.

I had on a button down shirt.

We agreed that if it was quicker to simply remove a shirt and I wasn't overly modest (at this point I told the Foley catheter removal story) no gown was required.

I lay down and they strapped on the mask. The whole treatment only takes about 5 minutes or so and is completely painless. The machine first does a CT scan and then applies the radiation. The patient is to lie as still as possible as the machine slowly spins around them. There is a plastic domination strap that is put around the wrists to stop them moving and potentially dropping off the table and interacting with the moving machine.

Or so they said.

Frankly, I think they are a little kinky.

The mask.

As an aside, I get to keep the mask when I'm done, if I so desire. I do. I'm already thinking about where to mount it in my house.

The machine.

The techs were nice enough to take a coupla pics for me for posterity so I thought I should show them off. It shows off the fact I've actually dropped some weight (on purpose... we already know I am not allowed to lose any more) and I thought it might actually be educational as that is really part of why I'm writing this. That and I have a big ego.

These pics are actually from day 2 as we neglected to get photos yesterday. Really the only differences between treatments was no gown today and it was a little quicker. Apparently the first day is the longest.

Tomorrow starts early with another visit to the dentist (any Little Shop of Horror fans here?). As much as I despise dentists, I like this one. And she promised me nitrous oxide. I like nitrous oxide. Especially when getting dental work.

I did not care for the dental hygienist who did my teeth cleaning a week or so back. She was older and came across as a chatty grandmother. She was also a bit pushy and dictatorial. And not overly gentle. Apparently she only works there on Mondays and Tuesdays. I have another appointment booked in about 6 or 7 months but I'm pretty sure I won't be available on a Monday or a Tuesday. Maybe I'll luck out and get the really nice hygienist who did my x-rays and assisted the dentist on my initial check up, I liked her.

They just called to confirm my appointment. As I'll be having NO2, (Yes, I had to look it up. Fuck off. I'm not a chemist) I have to fast for 6 hours. Not an issue as I'll be asleep for a good part of that and I don't generally eat breakfast first thing anyway. I am limited in what I can drink and coffee isn't on the list. We discussed this and as I've had NO2 several times in the past with no issues, it was decided that if I had a cup of coffee, I simply wouldn't tell them.

So, snow aside (1 cm forecast my ass) and the twats with summer tires, day 2 was pretty uneventful.

I'm not particularly looking forward to the dentist tomorrow and I'm certainly not looking forward to the period immediately following where I'll undoubtedly be drooling all over myself. I just hope no one takes me for a separatist.

Oh yeah... 32 more days to go of radiation. 6 of chemo (once a week).

All good things.

S