Today was a very pleasant day. Terry and Emily came to visit me and I got a package from Eva and a call from Dan Bogs (brother #1). There were all kinds of mechanical troubles with my PICC connector and it leaked daunarubicin all over the place. The nurse cleaned it up and double wrapped it in two chux and a plastic bag.
It's so funny, they give chemo dressed in space suits and double gloved and then they take the same stuff that they are trying to protect themselves from and inject it straight into my bloodstream. It's so dangerous we cannot lose track of a single drop, but here are 200 cc's for you. Of course, I understand the difference between nurses who are exposed potentially to multiple different chemos every day for decades and I understand that sometimes landfills leak and it would be good not to get chemo in the environment, but all of that said, still.
The nurse cleaned it all up, replaced the connectors and tubes and gave me the daunarubicin. Today it's kind of barfy; yesterday it didn't seem so much. Fortunately, there is only one more day of it.
I seem to be doing ok and I can even say to people "I might need a bone marrow transplant," but when Dr. Hill talks about finding out in the next 2-4 days if I do or not, I feel my stomach drop out just like on a roller coaster. I keep reminding myself that I don't have to deal with that today and I can't effect it by worrying about it at all. That helps.
The expression "take yourself by the hand, Mary," comes to mind.
'Til tomorrow.
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