Now Playing: Day 2858-Next GP Chapter... Turning Lemons Into Lemonade :)
Ahhhh...the very first signs of fall here in the country...
Bahhhh...the very first signs of a far too early wake up call here in the country...
Talking about one mix-up of a day!
We arrived 10 minutes early at the hospital, signed in with registration and was taken back to the same-day surgical area. What we weren't ready for was a HUGE mix-up, more so, a phone call and voicemail message that I never received yesterday. A message from my oncologist's assistance in order to let us know that my blood work came back with a few concerns that need to be addressed first before proceeding with my port. I honestly never received the phone call nor voicemail. That is because they left the voicemail on Eric's phone number. His prior phone number before having it changed after moving to Indiana. Oh yes...someone got the message...it just wasn't me.
I am still dealing with immunity issues, a compromised immune system. What my doctors will not do is any type of surgical procedure when signs of infection surface. It took my specialists almost a month to finally be able to proceed ahead with the last surgical procedure due to my inability to regulate a safe body temperature. That was also due to problems with my immune system, in which, a pump that was going to be able to deliver important hormones that my body can no longer make on it's own, was permanently canceled. Instead, we find out four months later, after my last rescan why I am having one complication after another. Internally, things rapidly progressing is not only concerning, but if I allow it...could be beyond depressing. Days like today, most certainly put life into perspective.
The gift of life, should be respected.
So...instead of being mentally prepared for my port procedure. We were whisked away to the infusion center for another treatment to help boost my immune system. This isn't the first nor do I expect it to be the last. For anyone who has endured infusion treatments. You can completely respect the time involved which starts with first getting your vitals taken, then off to find your assigned infusion chair. Time is truly of the essence with having any type of infusion due to time sensitive, delivered medication from the hospital pharmacist. The person responsible for making sure that the medication is sent up to the infusion staff after the patient has been registered and waiting in their assigned infusion chair. The infusion center that we typically go to inside the hospital reminds me of what one would see up in heaven. Bright white walls, crystal clear and very bright overhead lighting, soft white infusion chair sheets and big fluffy white blankets and pillows to keep you warm and comfy during your infusion treatment. All of the infusion center staff wear white hospital uniforms with white medical clogs. Everything...is literally the whitest shade of white humanly possible!
I believe that those who decide upon a career, taking care of patients with serious medical, end of life conditions, have some of the biggest hearts in the medical profession. We have yet to ever see a staff member inside the infusion treatment center walk around with a frown on their face. Even right down to the volunteer staff who come around making sure you are comfortable during your infusion, along with loved ones that sit along side the patient. Offering anything from magazines, beverages, snacks and even a mini size version of chess to help bide time while waiting for the infusion treatment to end. Every single infusion center staff member is beyond amazing! Angelic...that's a good word to describe their level of compassion and care to each and every patient.
Of course, there are the stories that are pretty hard not to overhear since all infusion patients chairs are out in the open. This as we were told makes it possible in order to help patients who might encounter a reaction to their treatment medication. Within the very first minute of my nurse helping me to get comfortable in my chair. A young woman in her mid 20's started having one of those serious reactions. Her mom gently held her hand while the nurse helped talk her through the reaction she was having from her treatment. Watching her face go from a normal skin tone color, to a very pale bluish-gray color, was quite scary. Of course, since she could see me. I instantly put on my warrior face! I had to set an example, more so, a calmness for her. Before the nurse began my treatment. I asked Eric to step out to the hallway. He doesn't do well with needles and the young ladies response to her treatment already had him frightfully nervous. Every single patient with an assigned chair has a story. The gentleman who sat next to us enduring his weekly infusion who sits patiently waiting for his medication to be delivered by the hospital pharmacy. One brave soul who endures weekly treatments to help boost his compromised immune system due to a kidney transplant, number two, that his body sadly rejected last year during Christmas. Another couple, an elderly gentleman who is battling stage 4 lung cancer. A supportive hand from his wife who patiently sat by his side. Yet, tells his assigned infusion center nurse that he feels a bit better and would rather not continue his final treatments due to time spent away from his family. Infusions that take between 3-4 hours which to him, equals time away from his adult children and grandchildren. Then there are the strongest of souls who are bravely enduring one final treatment option in hopes of biding just a bit more time. Experimental chemotherapy drugs that literally cost $15,000+ per infusion. This is actually around the normal cost of most treatment drugs. This is also why the drug manufacturers must have your verbal consent on the phone before they will ship the drug to the hospital pharmacy. I was told that same information last week, by the pharmaceutical company who needed my permission before proceeding with my own last option experimental chemotherapy drug treatment. Yet...my decision to not proceed ahead with one final option was not as brave as those souls who were seated in other infusion chairs. For those patients and those who sit in a chair next to the patient. Those who are there to support their family member, loved one and friend. My heart and deepest respect go out to each and every one of you. It takes a very brave and courageous human being to hold the hand of those who fight to live to see another day. Those same patients who go through the unimaginable, literally, the unthinkable while still being able to hold a smile on their face.
There really are no words to describe what it is like to sit among those who are the most bravest souls around...looking for hope inside a place where angels really do exist.
I am forever humbled to be around those who are forever blessed.