Chemo took a long time today but went fine.  When we met with my oncologist beforehand, he noted that even with a brain bleed and a hospital stay–which always kinda takes it out of a person–I was definitely clinically improved compared to my last few visits (meaning he could see the difference in my mood, energy level, and strength).  That was sure true–I could feel myself getting stronger and more stable in the legs even every day I was in the hospital.  And being more able to take care of dressing and stuff, too, despite the lack of one functioning hand and having, still, one block-of-wood foot.

He could see that all 3 or 4 times he visited me up on D5East in the hospital too…the Stroke unit.  I was the healthiest person there since I hadn’t really had a regular stroke.  Surgery rounded on me daily because I’d had a brain bleed; neurosurgery rounded on me–at 6 or 7 AM–because I was scheduled for brain surgery on Tuesday; Rufus visited because he was on-call that weekend for NYOH and stopped by on his way to the office, too; my neurosurgeon visited separately from his team at a more decent hour Monday morning (7:15 AM after I’d been woken up and gotten out of bed and dressed); and the two of them gave the vexing question of my ongoing clotting-vs-bleeding anti-coagulation decision to a good, thoughtful internal medicine doctor, Dr. Tietjen.  Not surprisingly, he is a DO and chief hospitalist at Albany Med.

So, chemo today.  Never a dull moment in this life of mine!

We were in my regular “inmate chair,” off in a hall corner where it is very solo and secluded.  No neighbor watching TV.  Just can’t sit there when a prisoner comes at the same time..  When Rufus just came by to say hi, I told him I would even wear shackles to guarantee this nice quiet spot. He said darkly, “That could be arranged…”

I got the Methotrexate IT (intrathecal–via the newly installed brain port) after the usual stuff.  It is quick, low-volume, and I barely felt the needle even on my sore scalp.  We did it in the one small private room in the sprawling chemo suite, most likely to avoid freaking other patients out. I am not posting a picture of my head yet–there must be a limit of taste, right? Write me if you want to see it staples and all (they will be removed in 10 days or so).

Prevailing mood: deeply afraid of what could come next, except…I keep forgetting. 

Came home to be greeted by these, left by my friend Shivani: