Christmas Chemo with a vision.
Lying in bed here and all that's on my mind is tomorrow's chemotherapy. The treatment was deferred from last week due to my low blood cell count. To encourage the expeditious return of my white blood cells (the good guys), all Chemo was deferred. If it goes ahead in the morning, it can mean an uncomfortable night's sleep tomorrow night. This is a knock on affect as part of my treatment involves a large dose of a steroid. For me, this drug puts my mind into a sleep/stay awake-sleep/stay awake-sleep/stay awake-sleep/stay awake multi mode switch for night 1 after chemotherapy. There's also an anti sickness injection that's given too. This bit is genius. The inventor of the latter should win an award for its discovery, it works and works bloody well.
Within the Oncology Department of the Bons Secour, relaxing in these leather electronically controlled ergonomic chairs (try saying that after a few beers) is so comfortable. There is even a full colour multi-channel LCD display TV with full swivel and tilt mechanism, designed and fitted to go channel hoping on when receiving the infusion.
For me, during this precise process, I need to block the dark side of it. What dark side you say ?
You see, sometimes what my minds eye sees is myself being poisoned but with just cause. Then quickly given an antidote so I live but the tumour dies (or reduces in my case). I often wonder, if Banksy decided to do a painting of somebody like me receiving chemotherapy live via IV line on the recliner, how would this artistic genius of our time decide to depict it ? I'm pretty sure of one thing, it would be an instant hit with the anti-smoking genre and perhaps rightly so. For the record, I have a stomach tumour, and I am not an anti smoker but never smoked or inhaled in my life.
Here's a thing, I have this recurring vision since my Chemotherapy began. Now take note, this has not happened to me, but it's always recurring to me around Chemo time and then I wake up and for that split nano-second of wakening, I believe this experience was real and did very much occur.
I'm in the Bons Secour, on my cubicilised recliner, patiently and willingly accepting the toxin feeding into my body. Then out of nowhere, my dear late mother appears accompanied with St. Pio by her side. Both of them smiling at me, silent but smiling. Staying with this vision, only I can see it, I get very emotional and distressed all at the same time. Then the nurses run over to me and in a very professional way, pull the long sash blue curtains around me and my cubicle. Again, staying with this vision, the beautiful Myra comes over to me. Somehow Myra (the queen of catering in my books) looks at me and the look she gives is one of understanding and approval of what I just witnessed even though Myra saw none of it, apparently she didn't have to. What followed next was Myra's magic coffee and scones and I began to relax.
Tonight, as I nod off, I hope and prey I get the same vision. Yes I'm likely to wake up with moist eyes but it's worth it. The only thing is, I don't have the queen of catering here with me to complete it.
My Oncology Dept and LIR Chocolate, a sweet team.
Hopefully tomorrow my blood count will be on high again. They tell me it should be but like in ballooning, I've learned not to count my chickens.
The only thing that is guaranteed right now with regard to my visit to the Bons Secour in the morning is the presence of a nice LIR Chocolate hamper that will be brought into the Oncology Department and it won't be coming home. Well not with me. They can split it, raffle it, share it. It'll taste yum either way and just lets me acknowledge in a very small way, the talent and compassion this team of people both have and indeed give, both to me and countless others, in bucket loads.
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