We took Picard in for his weekly refill and to get my blood tested.
My white blood cell count was a little low. This means I shouldn’t shower in the sneeze of someone with a bad cold. Which is not something I normally do anyway.
The low white blood cell count wasn’t low enough to force me to hide from society like a deranged hermit with an obsessive fear of random viruses. We’re saving that for another day.
I have had a minor mouth sore, which I frequently get when I eat too many pineapples and oranges. Which I have done recently.
The folks at Pacific Oncology conceded it was probably not from the chemo, but they weren’t sure. To be on the safe side, they gave me a graphic description of what mouth sores from chemo are like.
They are roughly like being a leper, with the sores of Job, who has been hung by an angry vigilante group who haven’t watched enough Westerns to know how to tie a proper noose.
Oh Ok, I exaggerated on that one a little bit. Well, maybe a lot. But that’s how it felt hearing their description.
We’ve figured out these folks make extra efforts to be sure you’re warned about the worst possible scenario. Which is good, but unsettling.
We now know what we are potentially up against and have the preparations in place to deal with it. However, we are not rushing into a panic.
So we’re all set until next Wednesday when I get my second Super Duper chemo treatment.
You can imagine how excited I am about that.
I am entertained that you refer to the people at Pacific Oncology as “folks”. I’m not sure why I am, but I am.
“We’ve figured out these folks make extra efforts to be sure you’re warned about the worst possible scenario.” <=== You got it in one. If they gave you the best case scenario, you might never attain it. At least this way, you have a better possibility of having some sense of accomplishment.
Marcia – The people who work at Pacific Oncology are the friendliest bunch of folks I’ve ever encountered. They’re ALL very friendly. I think it’s part of their therapy philosopy, but it’s still nice. I also suppose the fact that I am not the least bit intimidated by doctors causes me to think of them as just folks.
…..
Candace – I think it’s more like if I’m prepared for the worst, what actually happens won’t be so bad. I also suspect many people have worse side effects than I do because they aren’t as obsessive about doing EVERYTHING that is supposed to be done. I am very lucky to have a wife whose obsessive nature makes it virtually impossible for me to slack off. Without her I don’t know what I would do.
Gary: It’s good to hear that you are tolerating the chemo so well. I hope it continues (which it probably will). When I worked in a radiation oncology department many years ago, I found that it takes a special person to work with oncology patients. They are knowledgeable, supportive and helpful. One social worker responded when I asked her if she found it depressing, that no, she found working with cancer patients to be truly inspiring.
can’t wait to see you soon! You better be wearing a muumuu.
I keep forgetting to tell you that Flossie’s bathroom scale is a Borg. Now that I know that, it all makes perfect sense.
Kathleen – None of the people at Pacific Oncology seem to be particularly depressed. In fact, they are some of the most cheerful people I’ve ever encountered. As to cancer patients being inspiring, I really don’t understand that. This is a disease that you just trudge through. It’s not like you have any choice, or it requires any heroic efforts, you just take it one day at a time.
…..
Niece Jen – Bad news. I’ve moved on from the Moo Moo look. I’ve found something much better.
…..
Marcia – I bet my Picard is cooler than her Borg. That is unless her Borg has flashing lights and talks to you in a soft southern drawl. In that case she wins the cool competition.