The War on C@#%$#

Tuesday June 13 – Day 12- 9:27, it feels late. We are never late, and 9-4 is busy. Cyndi gets my name and DOB to slap a band on me in exchange for a beeper and a quick trip to the waiting room. Any wait is too much for me this morning. My head throbs. It’s not that bad but it’s low-key bad. Every time I seem to shift from standing to sitting or sitting to standing it overcomes me. I close my eyes to brace but the floods are coming. The blood rushes and I wince. It’s a small fee to pay in this war on C. I’m glad they give me the beeper. Anything I can feel or see. My hearing is fucked. It scares me. Dr. Hammond says its real. It’s real. I don’t know how much was lost but its noticeable. The RiNGING. THE RINGING. IT’s constant. And it drowns everything to a lower volume. IT’s hard. Makes my mind race, jump. To conclusions I go; This will not get better. My poor ears for Adele. I waited my entire life for this moment and boom Big bad C comes to town. Well FU C. BUZZZ! My beeper go wild.

I get to my room. Room 10. Again with the rush, I wince but shake it off quickly. It’s showtime. This is my time to shine. As per usual, My sitting vitals are normal, 105/70 with an oxygen level of 99. I rise for my standing vitals. To the best of my ability I mask a rush. I’m good. I’m so good. Step on the scale. 57.5kg. Standing vitals begin. My numbers drop. I’m dehydrated. But I should be kind of dehydrated right? I’m on fluid restrictions! My sodium is low! Oh WTF.

It's a dance. Such a cute little spicy dance with where you want to be. Dehydration is the main culprit for feeling nausea so you need to drink. But your sodium levels are low so you need to restrict your water intake. Drink anything else like pop and Gatorade. Ugghhhh how much fucking pop can one drink when it’s not already a part of your diet. Pop ios gross. My connotation with pop is sugar and sugar is bad and therefore pop is bad. And Gatorade. I love Gatorade but it really seems to take a toll on my tum after consuming so much. It’s a dance.

The provider comes in. It’s my favorite part of the day. I’m so fortunate to be here. At Mayo I see a different provider every two days. The characters and conversations that I have enjoyed over my first few weeks have created lasting memories. Dr. Hammond seems intuitive about my symptoms. Almost knowing exactly where I am in my symptom timeline. Confused I oblige and continue to explain my symptoms. She recommends fluids. I agree I really think they help and if nothing else they alleviate the pressure put on me to constantly drink. When the doctor returns with the fluids she almost apologizes to me stating that she may over prescribe fluids at this stage because when she was going through chemo it helped her immensely. Lightbulb broken. I’m like, “Whoa! You went through Chemo?? You must be in the small majority of people who get what you prescribe!” Without even skipping a beat Dr. Hammond laughingly scoffs stating, “you’d be surprised with our group of hematologists really not the healthiest group. Between us and family members really lots of cancers and ailments. Kind of incredible.” I love her. What a great candid response. We are all human. These things happen to everybody. Thank you for helping my perspective.

Engraftment is another dance. Happy as we may be with progress, but too much too quickly can come with its own issues. It’s a constant dance.