Round 3: Fight, The Battle For My Life

It's Round 3, this time, with the SGN-35 in the battle for my life.  

Fight.

 The nurse pokes her head in to my infusion suite, "Would you like ativan 1mg iv or by mouth?" She asks sweetly.

 "IV would be great." I say, as nonchalantly as ordering a soda from a waitress. 

"and how do you feel about our complimentary massages?" She asks. 

"I don't know how I feel about them, I've never had one but I get the sense I'd like it." I said. 

"A lot of people say it helps their neuropathy," she explains, "I'll sign you up." 

Cancer treatment at NYU is feeling more like a stay at the drug spa than the hospital. 

I even grabbed a handful of mints on the way in as my father perused the k-cups for his 3rd cup of coffee.

All very posh, really, and all mostly staples of a good cancer institute. 

The Langone center is the most cancer patient friendly clinic I have encountered in my five year cancer clinic tour. It has a simple ottoman seat in the elevator for the exhausted patient. It has couches in the waiting rooms instead of armchairs so falling asleep is easy, and I've never encountered a line. 

At the centers where lines are prevalent I've begged each of them to implement a number system, much like at the deli so we don't have to stand, but none have taken my suggestion. This would be great even at the pharmacy.

 At first arrival, the front desk gives you a print out of all your appointments and where they're located. 

Again showing, It's a place that knows its patients. 

I've successfully completed My 3rd dose of sgn-35 with a lot of help from 2mg ativan, to differentiate between side effects and anxiety, 50 mg of benadryl, 500 mg of tylenol and who-knows-how-much dexamethasone, all to ward off the awful allergic reaction from last time. 

These were not only succesful in warding off a reaction, they were successful in knocking me on my ass until the following day.

 I awoke at 8 Friday, at my dad's urging to get moving, remembering little to nothing from the night before.

 I don't remember stealing the wheelchair to ride home in bc I forgot mine. I do remember demanding to stop to buy fruit, but not paying or scarfing them down in the hotel room. 

Actually, I only hazily remember taking my evening meds and changing into PJs. Apparently, I was freezing with the shakes and talked dad into turning the heat up to 77 degrees while he Burned and I slept like a mummy. 

Awwww