I went to the Cancer ward at the hospital today. I wanted to get a few more details about my PICC line and my treatments – particularly the hideous drugs used to combat the hiideous chemo drugs. It’s so crazy. I don’t really want to take a steroid, and I had hoped I would be able to talk to the nurse, and negotiate a bit. I would rather NOT take the steroid at first, but take the presciption home and take it if I need it. I would rather see if there is something natural I could do – maybe something that my homeopath could recommend. But when I broached the idea, the nurse just said,”Oh, you’re going to take the dexamethasone.”
“Do I have to?” I asked.
“Yeah… you do. You are going to take some before the treatment, then we are going to send some home, and you are going to take more. Then you are going to journal what is happening in your body. You might end up in the Emergency Ward that night, vomiting. And then we’ll give you even more.”
“Oh,” I said, rather lamely. “Okay, then.”
“You know, we don’t WANT to give you more drugs than you need, but we don’t want you vomiting.”
I guess I don’t really want that either. As Bryan would say, “I’m unanimous” about that.

So I left, feeling pretty stupid, and whiney, and stupid.

Later in the day, I took Anna out for lunch. At the restaurant, I saw a woman who was at the lodge in Victoria. She was just finishing her radiation as I was starting. We exchanged compliments, and then asked each other what was next. When I told her that I was about to start chemo, her face crumpled.
“Oh, I don’t envy you THAT… I HATED chemo,” and she shivered.

All righty, then.