Countdown towards chemo

It’s not just Drano they’re injecting into my veins.

It’s actually a carefully crafted “cocktail.” As I understand it (I may be bit shaky on the precise medical terms), the ingredients are Drano, Agent Orange and Round-up. See, it contains something orange – that must mean it’s kind of like a screwdriver, albeit one made with the worst rotgut imaginable.

How toxic is it?

At chemo orientation, they said our partners must wear condoms for protection from our soon-to-be-noxious bodily fluids.

We toured the "infusion center.” Since I’d heard so much about the comfy recliners for receiving chemo, I was picturing that it would have a homey feel, like an upscale birthing center with Martha Stewart-esque fabrics and colors and lots of nice touches to warm it up.

It looks a lot more like an ICU.

There’s a nurse’s station in the middle and maybe 10 patient rooms – actually they’re more like small alcoves. As a cubicle dweller, I should feel right at home.

The décor may be lacking but the people are indeed warm.

Melody, the head nurse, is a friend of a friend, and gave me a huge, welcoming hug and whispered that they’d take good care of me.

The orientation was informative if not totally comforting.

The best news is that retching one’s guts out after chemo is a thing of the past. Patients may still feel queasy, but the nausea-blocking drugs are super-powerful. I’ve been prescribed five separate meds to prevent nausea and that doesn’t count the anti-nausea drugs they’ll give me intravenously. If need be, post-chemo we can return to the infusion center for more IV anti-nausea meds and IV hydration.

Fatigue is another matter. There are likely to be several days of feeling cruddy after each infusion. Since chemo is cumulative, the bad days can get worse and more frequent with each new cycle.

I don’t feel sick. It’s still so hard to grasp the paradox that I am agreeing to be poisoned – in the pursuit of good health.