We visited with Nurse Angel Ann “Witchy Woman” June 12 for our pre-chemo blood draw which went uneventfully, as usual, except for Ann doing the draw in a different room then asking that I go weigh my own self in the blood-draw room and instruct N.A. Carrie to chart my weight. But we won’t mention that 😉
I also had the opportunity to offer Ann a
shitload lot of sincere thanks for having suggested the one thing that finally helped, the prior week, to rid me of, shall we say, a two-week accumulation a horrible case of … constipation.
I shall spare you, Dear Reader, the awful details, but those of you who either have undergone chemotherapy or who have taken prescribed narcotics for any length of time, will attest to the fact that The Big C really stands for Constipation, not Cancer. This, and other equally-gross things, shall be a topic in my non-fiction Work In Progress (WIP) being written for first-time cancer patients. It falls under that category “Things About Which They Never Told You the Whole Truth.”
My real life friends will attest to the fact that I was incommunicado for about three weeks. They should be grateful. Even my cats knew to stay out of my way. In any case, I was miserable. I had tried everything short of a stick of dynamite and, believe me, that was next! Ann suggested I try Miralax (R). I’d believed that it was just like all the other over-the-counter products available and hadn’t yet tried it. But after Ann’s suggestion, three days later I had the beginnings of a smile on my face again. Needless to say, henceforth I shall put up with almost any shenanigan Ann pulls 😉
So, yesterday, June 13 (emphasis on the “13” for those triskaidekaphobics among you) was a chemo day. After Wonder Doc reviewed my platelets and other blood goodies and pronounced me fit for another boatload of noxious chemicals, I wished him a sincere Happy Vacation and proceeded to the Infusion Suite. They were a-rockin’ and a-rollin’ with a full house again, so I elected to take a chair in the side room which was empty, as I felt a nap coming on.
Gentle Cathy was my assigned N.A. for the afternoon and she graciously waited until I’d finished my lunch before she pulled her cart full of needles over my way and picked a vein. A few squiggles later and it was obvious that the vein wasn’t going to cooperate despite the gallons of water I’d been ingesting. Cathy asked if she was hurting me, to which I responded “Oh, maybe a little.” Well, that was all it took. Cathy removed the needle and decided to choose another vein, on the other arm, even. The needle found its mark swiftly and painlessly, but when N.A. Carrie walked by just then, Cathy said to her, “Oh geeze now she’s going to blog about me.” Carrie just smiled and said, “Yep. You’re in trouble now!”
Needless to say, two little needle sticks are hardly worth a blog post, but when someone expects a post, what’s a writer to do? After all, we’re here to please our readers! So, for the purposes of this post, C is for Constipation … and for Cathy. And Cathy — this post is for you 🙂
PS: Ann, I shall be forever grateful, if my thanks on Tuesday weren’t sufficent!