Too Long.

05/08/2023- What a fucking day. You know those days where you feel like you don’t have it. Where you want to stay in bed and just try again in a few hours. I slept like shit. Stirring and rolling. My left abdominal region is hurting. Or is it my mind that makes me feel that. It is all a game. The mind is too powerful. I took a half happy pill before sleep but it just didn’t keep me. “Do I need more?” is the constant thought. Is this healthy for coping? It all crashed down at 2:27 am.

I am back. I am here. I am no longer there. I no longer can seek the comfort of the dry, crisp Colorado air. I no longer am in the loud boisterous love of the Iowa heartland. I am back in Rochester. The city of Hope.

I wake in a fog. “23 appointments in the next 7 days” my portal reads. The portal is gospel. What it says is etched in stone. My first appointment is early. Desk 9A Charlton building, Arthur greets us. Arthur is a Minnesotan, he refers to me as buddy too many times. Arthur is most helpful, but I am not having any of this buddy shit this morning. We meet quickly with an RN who presents me with an opportunity to help in research. The research will not affect my treatment and will only require using any remaining stem cells collected from my sample post-treatment. It’s an easy decision for me to agree to. If my case can help another patient’s case down the line I want to help in any way possible. Cancer sucks.

It’s time for my bone marrow biopsy. This is a big appointment; Something I’ve had circled on my calendar for a few days. No food or drink for several hours before. I’m focused but weary. We get down to Chariton desk 7 East and check-in with Charlene. For some reason I just start picking apart Char. As she’s typing I notice something strange. She somehow has the smallest nail beds paired with the longest free edge. You know what I’m saying? Like the regular nail area that should stretch the finger is only a quarter of what it should be with the rest of her nail consisting of the white colored nail that is normally trimmed. I don’t know, it was weird. Also her hair was kind of puffy but thin and you could tell she’s gotta work it quite a bit to get full coverage. Patchy if you will. I look to her badge. The picture that stares back to me is nothing short of a masterpiece. A vibrant professional, full head of hair, great facial structure. Surely this badge was an inaccurate representation of insipid Charlene. My mind starts to race, recalling other medical receptionists and the positively distorted images displayed on their badges. The staff photographer tasked with the medical badges here at Mayo is the unsung hero. “You can have a seat and we’ll call you to the door on the left in a few minutes.”

We take a seat far from the desk and closer to an alley where few people are passing through. As we sit I tire quickly. I don’t sink and relax though, instead I stir and get uncomfortable. The mental marathon lingers on. I think of what the next several weeks will bring. Lots of nausea, uncomfortable sleeps, restlessness, all enhanced by this round of Chemo being a road game. “It’s ok, just breathe.” Ushers Megs. She’s right, it’s all good we just need to take this a moment at a time. I gain composure. My allergies have been plaguing me. Upon blowing my nose with the same tissue too many times I walk to retire it in the receptacle and get a new one. When I return to my seat a small crowd is walking behind us. It is a female nurse joined by what appears to be a husband, wife, and their pre-teen son. He is the subject of nurse admiration. He is the patient. This overwhelms me. This brings me uncontrolled sorrow. Why does cancer exist, why is cancer so cruel?

I am admitted by nurse David. His appearance indicates experience. Not old but experienced. Upon collecting my vitals we make small talk. When I bring up my employer, he gently stops me. Incredibly, David had treated Mr. Sam many moons ago and recalls conversations where Walton expressed his supreme gratitude with the care he received at Mayo, and made it known, shall any employee of the Walmart company find themselves in such a position they should be able to enjoy the same exceptional care as he was provided with, for a fee that should never concern the employee. Incredible. Just too much. I feel weak. Did I underestimate the toll this process would take on my body? Did I underestimate the toll this would take on my mind? It’s just the beginning. My day begins. A thunderstroke booms on the horizon, the sky illuminates, a crash is heard. I feel comfort, sinking into slumber, at last, I rest.