Round 3: fight

   It's been a long week, forgive me if I all ready published this:                                                           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 wattress.  "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 first arrival, there is valet and wheelchairs waiting, a must for convenience. Then the front desk gives you a print out of all your appointments and where they're located.  It's a place that knows its patients.                                             I've successfully completed My 3rd dose of sgn-35 (advertis, now, maybe) 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 this am, 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. 

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