High School Reunion #2

I had my fifth treatment last Friday. Sylvia, my good friend from Colorado, flew in for the treatment. Like my other friends from last week, Sylvia and I also grew up together. We spent the day before the treatment going to lunch and a movie. It was a windy day here in Austin last Thursday and my wig flew off twice! ….once outside of Central Market and the other outside of Trudy’s. Both times, I sprang into action and caught the wig in the air before it fell to the ground. A couple walking near me at Central Market saw the flying wig and kept staring at me. Of course, Sylvia and I laughed and laughed both times. I am so glad Sylvia was with me! By myself, I would have been SO embarrassed, but with Sylvia, losing my wig was just one more crazy event in our 27-year friendship. Sylvia makes me laugh. I make Sylvia laugh. When we get going, our bellies hurt.

Like airline travel, I like my infusion treatments to be uneventful. Unfortunately,my treatment last Friday was a little different. I shook up the nursing staff and broke the peaceful silence of the infusion room when I started vomiting. I was sleeping with Rituxan on a slow drip into my port when all of a sudden, I woke up with a cough which quickly became loud retching. I immediately had several nurses buzzing around me. One quickly gave me a sick bag. Another gave me a wet towel. Even another patient’s chemo sitter tried to help. All the nurses shook their heads wondering why I got sick. I was on two different anti-nausea medications at the time. I think I shook up the other patients too. Every patient in that room dreads getting sick. During treatment, chemo patients are given several powerful anti-nausea drugs. Yet, there I was defying the drugs and reminding everyone that they might be next.


After my blood pressure and pulse returned to normal, they turned the IV machine on again and resumed “pushing” (as the nurses say) the Rituxan into me.


Here I am with Sylvia during treatment #5. I wear the same clothes for every treatment. It’s my little ritual. I wear my dad’s blue sweater and my Aunt Mary’s winter coat as a blanket. (My dad died in 1991 from brain cancer and my Aunt Mary died from bile duct cancer in 1996.) I feel like my dad and aunt are hugging me when I wear their clothes.


The patient and chemo sitter next to me also wore chemo outfits. These ladies were both wearing white Victoria’s Secret jackets with pink skull and crossbones images ironed on. They also wore big, black skull and crossbones rings. They held up their hands and showed me the cancer fighting power of their rings. The ladies told me they always wear special outfits to the infusion room. Once they wore matching tiaras. Another time it was bunny ears. Their clothing ritual is bit more whimsical, but I think just as meaningful as mine.