The Neulasta commercials tell cancer patients that the day after chemo, they would much rather stay at home, rather than going back to the doctor to get a shot to boost their white blood cell counts. Yeah. Nice theory. Wrong on two counts so far. For one, I had to go back anyway, to get a replacement Neulasta after I bumped into my bathroom door on the way out of the house (more on that later), and for another, I feel amazing today. Why would I stay home now, while I feel good, when the floor will most likely fall out from under me two or three days from now? They gave me an anti-nausea medication that will last through Wednesday night, maybe Thursday morning. I'm taking advantage of the reprieve. I attended Rotary and was all smiles. I didn't eat as hearty as I might have otherwise (I'm already noticing that the spicy Indian food they served today was a little hard to handle), but I was alert and in nearly no pain. After stopping back in the infusion room on the way home, I met up with the Mr, and we took our annual trip up Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. We wanted to go on opening day, but we just missed it over the weekend while he was at the rally.
As for the replacement Neulasta. Holy crap. That was quite an error. I have a rack hanging over the bathroom door, and it's full of swimsuits for the hot tub. The door doesn't shut all the way unless you really slam it, and unless my house is full of strangers, I don't try to close it. When I showered Monday, I got lazy and left my fuzzy bathrobe hanging there too, so the door didn't open all the way either. I was super careful with the cyborg-machine in my arm yesterday, all last night in bed (even when the flashing light lit up the room, making me wait for thunder), and I kept it dry in the shower this morning. I dressed, I pulled on a light cardigan, and after doing my makeup, I walked out of the bathroom. I barely brushed the door with my right arm. But I hit that thing just right, and the door didn't give with all the junk hanging behind it. It knocked the box loose, pulling the little catheter out of my skin. I had to go back and get another one, and before they got it out of the medication closet, I asked, does insurance cover this? The financial advisor was there, and she said yes, her copay will cover it. Thank goodness. If I had to pay out of pocket, the full amount would be $13,000. Ouch! I bumped it slightly getting into the car on the way home from this, and swore to myself that if it came out again, I wasn't going to tell a soul. I'd rather just not get the medication and be low on white blood cells for a cycle than to risk paying out of pocket for a third strike. Tell me why I couldn't have planned on going back today for an actual shot? I might next time, to make it easier and cheaper on my insurance, and lower my risk profile.
Now, what I really wanted to write about today: my pretty ride up along Trail Ridge Road. As I write, it's still June 11, but just barely. Keep that in mind when you see how much snow is up there. The road opened more than a week later than it usually does, which is traditionally Memorial Day weekend. The park itself was super green at the lower altitudes, and as we drove up, the aspen leaves were younger, lighter, and sparser the whole way up. We eventually came across snow cuts on the side of the road once we were pretty high, and they started small. From my side of the car, they appeared to be one or two feet tall at first. Then they were as tall as the car. Then we passed a truckload of Texans hopping out to stand against a snow cut twice as tall as they were. By the time we got to the highest parts of the road, the snow towered over the cars on the road. It was lovely up there. It spit tiny snowflakes at us at the top, but nothing measurable. The visitor's center was packed, even though the bathrooms were still closed. The hiking trail to the 12,000 foot point was still under house-deep snow. I found a hand-painted magpie Christmas ornament that screamed my name. We got a couple of hot chocolates before heading back down. And we saw some baby elks above the tree line, and a handsome elk down low who had a big, velvety rack of antlers. I can't tell you how wonderful it is to be close enough to drive up there on an afternoon whim, and be close to all of this beauty. It was totally worth everything we went through to land in Boulder county once the Mr's military service was over. Totally worth it.
Final note: Rabbit is sitting on my bedside table, periodically tapping the Neulasta. Oh, Rabbit, no...
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