First chemo day

On chemo day, we get up, Tony packs the cold cap cooler. I pack up my laptop, crossword puzzles, Kindle, notepad, chargers. Off we go. Labs are uneventful (they took blood, my blood pressure, temp, weight). Doctor’s appointment was really uneventful – she sent me downstairs to chemo. Down we went. When they saw us with this big cooler, they kept moving us around. The chemo place wasn’t what it looked like in the pictures I saw on the internet (big open spaces with big recliners and TV trays). It’s cramped. The recliners aren’t big. Most only have one wall outlet to plug in. A tiny chair for your guest. Tight. Cramped.

We got lucky on first chemo day. They put us in a private room. With a bed. And a big place for me to set up my laptop. And plug in. And work. Extra space for the cooler. Extra space for Lori, out cold cap trainer from Chemo Cold Caps who came to our first appointment to show us the system). More wall outlets. This was nice.

Artwork in hospitals and doctors offices sucks -- out of catalogues (exception: Dr. Beale's lobby artwork is nice, along with the furnishings). This bear painting is an exception in one of the scan lobbies at Medical City, but I'm partial to bears)

Cold capping at first chemo (yes, a mask and I look like I'm wearing a Jiffy Pop popcorn -- BTW, Amazon still sells Jiffy Pop)

First, they give you saline after plugging into your chemo port. They order your premeds and meds. You then get your premeds (I think anti-nausea stuff) that takes about 45 minutes. And then the meds start. Until I stared learning about chemo, I thought it was all chemo. Not so much. My cancer treatment involves a “four-part cocktail” – two are chemo, two are not.