I woke up at 0145 this morning, seriously regretting my life choices. I was awake and in pain for hours, before I finally conked out after 5 am. I slept a couple of hours, just long enough to be able to skip all talk of the ER, and head to my cancer center for some attention. It was the first time I had escaped the confines of my house to any extent (even standing on the front or back porches) in five days, and it felt like I had been in a time machine. My pink roses were blooming in profusion, many of them well spent, and when last I had seen them, they were only barely budding. There were new flowers from the clearance rack sitting on my front step, that I didn't recognize. And it just felt like time had passed without me.
They didn't have the wheelchair available when the Mr drove me up to the medical office tower entrance, so I had to take it in stages, and sit on a bench while I waited for him to park and bring up my stuff. I sat close to the reception desk so I could mumble at the office person how much I needed help. They were totally fine with me arriving two hours and twenty minutes early, and no one yelled at me for needing immediate attention. The nurse saw how slowly I was walking when they called me back, and asked whether I needed a wheelchair. By that point, I'd already done the exhausting part, and I just staggered out the last few steps. I paused in a lab chair to let them draw the blood I was supposed to offer up this morning, and based on how puny I felt, they said they would send it down to the hospital so that it would be processed sooner. They set me in an infusion chair, and asked me key questions about what was going on. I told them everything. I probably gave them TMI, but I wasn't exactly clear headed. Who knows what I said?
They started me with a liter of saline, and let me nap through the two hours it took to administer. The Mr had gone to drop off his car for an oil change, and returned right as I was draining the last of the bag. My blood results came back okay-ish. One nurse came to me and started with, "You're not in trouble, but..." and asked whether my second Neulasta had been knocked loose also. No, I assured her, it stayed on and delivered the dose. Apparently my white blood cell counts were at the bottom of the okay range, when they expect them to be much higher with Neulasta. I wondered aloud whether the troubles I was having were because of the lupus, and they agreed it might be a factor. We discussed over the counter medications to address some of my messier problems, and they called in a prescription for a different anti-nausea drug. Before I got out of there, they asked if I had time for another half-liter of saline, and I couldn't say no. We told ourselves maybe we would be better off if we just expect to come in for hydration at least once per cycle.
I still have a headache. I'm still weak and tired. But I'm better prepared to treat what's wrong, and I know my options. It still sucks, and I didn't talk to them about the heartburn I have now. The worst is past, I think. At least the worst of not knowing and not feeling able to fix it.
No comments:
Post a Comment