Thanks to Dennis, my nurse, I had a one-shot needle insertion!
Betsy bought me the warriors shawl from Ford. It is beautiful and kept me warm during my last treatment.
(I LOVE shawls!)
(I LOVE shawls!)
Gary keeps me smiling!
Plugged in with blankets in place.
This has been a very exciting day. I completed my chemotherapy today! The experience was uneventful. Thoroughly medicated with Valium, Gary and I trekked to the oncologist’s office once again. Betsy had to work and attend classes while Katie spent the entire morning in class. Katie surprised me with a Demdaco collectible--the "Congratulations Child" and a card that made me weep. After arriving at the office, I met with the doctor who asked to hear once again the list of symptoms I experienced this time. Upon hearing my bizarre list of symptoms, he simply said that he was glad this would be my last treatment. I agreed.
I was sent to the “special” room for patients who need unusual care. (Actually, I think they just don’t want me to scare off the other patients during the needle insertion process or the breathing cessation experiences.) However, I did quite nicely today. I immediately hung my arm over the side of the chair, had previously drunk three big bottles of water, and placed a hot rice bag (prepared by Gary) on my arm to encourage plump, happy veins as I waited for the nurse. My nurse, Dennis (who couldn't find me since I was in the little room and not in the big room with the "regular" patients), was quite impressed with my work. He said that whatever I had done had produced three interesting sticking possibilities. He said he would first try the spot about three inches below the bend in my arm. He warned me that it was usually a tender spot; I said I was game, so the process began. The needle slid right in. Dennis said, “Let’s see if it works.” I held my breath as he started the drip. VOILA! It worked. My worries were for nothing.
The first bag was filled with Benadryl to ensure that my throat wouldn’t swell; consequently, I slept through most of the treatment. Gary sat by my side and read, making me laugh in my lucid moments. Before I knew it, the treatment was over, the needle was removed, and away we went.
Of course, we dined at The Chop House. I once again had baked schrod, and Gary once again had chicken fried chicken. Not a very adventuresome after-chemo meal—but excellent choices (once again), if I do say so myself.
My theory about the relative ease of this final treatment is that my friends and colleagues from school wore pink today in my honor. It was “twin day” for spirit week—an annual high school phenomenon. A group of my friends decided to be "twins" (or multiples or something like that) in pink in order to send me strong “pink power vibes” during my last treatment. It worked. I was particularly impressed that David Owen found or borrowed a pink shirt for the event. As I have said before, friends rock!!
I was sent to the “special” room for patients who need unusual care. (Actually, I think they just don’t want me to scare off the other patients during the needle insertion process or the breathing cessation experiences.) However, I did quite nicely today. I immediately hung my arm over the side of the chair, had previously drunk three big bottles of water, and placed a hot rice bag (prepared by Gary) on my arm to encourage plump, happy veins as I waited for the nurse. My nurse, Dennis (who couldn't find me since I was in the little room and not in the big room with the "regular" patients), was quite impressed with my work. He said that whatever I had done had produced three interesting sticking possibilities. He said he would first try the spot about three inches below the bend in my arm. He warned me that it was usually a tender spot; I said I was game, so the process began. The needle slid right in. Dennis said, “Let’s see if it works.” I held my breath as he started the drip. VOILA! It worked. My worries were for nothing.
The first bag was filled with Benadryl to ensure that my throat wouldn’t swell; consequently, I slept through most of the treatment. Gary sat by my side and read, making me laugh in my lucid moments. Before I knew it, the treatment was over, the needle was removed, and away we went.
Of course, we dined at The Chop House. I once again had baked schrod, and Gary once again had chicken fried chicken. Not a very adventuresome after-chemo meal—but excellent choices (once again), if I do say so myself.
My theory about the relative ease of this final treatment is that my friends and colleagues from school wore pink today in my honor. It was “twin day” for spirit week—an annual high school phenomenon. A group of my friends decided to be "twins" (or multiples or something like that) in pink in order to send me strong “pink power vibes” during my last treatment. It worked. I was particularly impressed that David Owen found or borrowed a pink shirt for the event. As I have said before, friends rock!!
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