A funny thing happened on the way to chemotherapy....

Well, it didn't actually. The journey to, and the process of chemotherapy were relatively incident free. But I spent time collecting the following thoughts and observations:

:: The clinic's blood analysis machine was broken. Again. And I thought this was a state-of-the-art facility? I actually ran into the bloke trying to mend the thing and made the mistake of asking whether he was the IT guy. Apparently (clearly) this business ranks way above software updates and the like. I was firmly put in my place. But it took a boring hour to get my blood results back from some far distant lab. On the upside, my blood counts were all "perfect."

:: Nursing staff very impressed with my reaction to the chemo so far, especially the "no vomiting" part. Yay! I am bullet proof. Well, apart from the whole cancer thing.

:: I had read that one shouldn't get a manicure/pedicure during this process due to the risk of infection which is a bloody disaster for me. I mean, I can live with no hair...but unkempt nails! God forbid! I mentioned this to the nurse practitioner who said that in her 30 years of being in this business she had never heard of such a restriction. Which is funny because I read it in this very clinic's helpful "dos and don'ts" literature. Still not sure how to proceed. Might risk it when my white blood cell count gets back up (10 days or so.)

:: Every time an infusion bag is changed on my drip, and even when the syringes are introduced for the "push," the nurse has to confirm my identity. It takes all my strength not to fire off some zinger or other."Are you Rebecca Armstrong?" "Yes, things haven't changed much in the last 30 minutes" etc etc. I'm pretty sure there's a brilliant Jekyll and Hyde gag somewhere in here given all the chemicals I'm taking on but I'll save that for the last infusion.

:: Emend is saving my life. It's the anti-nausea drug they infuse before the chemo drugs. It was only approved by the Feds for intra-venal infusion in the last three months. THANK YOU FEDS. It is also very expensive. I have to take the same med in oral form on days 2 & 3 following infusion. My co-pay for these 2 pills is $50. I believe the total value of them is $220. Meaning each little life-saver is worth $110. THANK YOU REGENCE BLUECROSS BLUESHIELD.

:: Many chemo survivors have recommended Magic Mouthwash to me to combat the inevitable sores and other mouth distress. It's like a secret among those "in the know." Look it up on Wikipedia for full description including its alleged use in the military for rather gross reasons (not that I would deny our boys and girls on the front line anything.) Anyway, the clinic wrote up a prescription for my use, though I'm not totally excited about it since Novocaine is an ingredient. I'm quite enjoying still being able to taste things.

In general I'm feeling OK. Still nausea/vomit free and not much in the way of indigestion. Still have hair but that situation will likely change this week. It's weird waiting around for it to fall out so I might actually get it shaved off this weekend. Stand by for GI Jane posting.