Yep, today was my 13th chemo session. I’m pretty sure I’ve had enough. I want to be done now.
Once again, it took two very painful sticks to get my IV in. I can feel my pain tolerance lowering every time. The nurse asked why I didn’t have a port, and I’m all BECAUSE NO ONE EVER EVEN MENTIONED IT, THAT’S WHY. She said I should’ve asked for one. NOW they tell me… I could have avoided the IVs and blood draws and all that stuff for the past eight months???
That makes me oh-so-angry.
So I punched the nurse in the eye. Hey, she totally deserved it.
I’ve still got several treatments to go, but she said it was too late to get a port now. DAMMIT. I was so mad, I punched her again.
And then I asked her if she could give those ouchies to Dr. O in a message because OMG, that is the most infuriating news I’ve gotten in a long time.
In other news, my blood pressure is improving but still needs work. The pain in my hand is as bad as ever. And the nurse was shocked when I mentioned I have dandruff—she’d never heard of such a thing! I found evidence on message boards all over the ‘net that lots of
skanks people get post-chemo dandruff, so I assured her I’m not a loony.
(Pssst: I might be a loony.)
Mother Mary went with me today, and was much better behaved than the last time she was my chemo buddy. The last time she went along was my very first time, and we were all very nervous and frightened and even though I don’t remember her misbehaving, she said she did. Naughty Mother Mary! Anyway, she brought magazines and we got to chit-chat and she didn’t make me feel guilty when I fell asleep. She kind of gave me a dirty look, but I pretended not to notice and fake-snored until she stopped.
How many more treatments? Three? Twelve? Whatever it is, it’s too many. I’m tired of being grouchy. I’m tired of getting my hands poked with sharp needles many times. I’m tired of my dandruff. I’m tired of being tired. I’m just so, so tired.