The Process

Today was my first day going with my mom to chemo. We were literally waiting ALL DAY! From 9am to 3pm we were waiting in a clinic for one thing or another to happen. YESH! When my mom checked in, the nurse said that my mom wasn't scheduled. She gave us directions of other people to talk to to get scheduled. So we tracked down these people and her name was put on a list. (Oh good, a list...) We began by going to the blood draw area so they can take 3 vials of blood to check Mom's white blood cell count. If it's too low, then she can't get chemo that day. It basically to make sure that the chemo will do more good than harm. Then we wait for an extremely long time to get the results from the lab back. Finally the nurse calls her name and we go back where 30 other cancer patients are sitting with IV's dripping into them. Most people think of chemo as some sort of radiation that makes your hair fall out. That is false. Yes, radiation makes your hair fall out, but not chemo. Chemo is an injection. And you keep your hair. For pancreatic cancer, my mom doesn't get radiation. Only chemo. So the nurse sticks her with a big needle and the IV with the chemo in it has to drip into her blood stream for about 2 hours. While it's dripping, the nurse gives my mom a few pills to take. I think they were for anti-nausea... Then it's time to pull back out my book while my mom takes a nap (chemo makes her tired). Finally that cursed machine starts beeping and that means it's DONE! We drive home, but LA traffic in rush hour is not so speedy. It takes us almost twice as long to get home as it did to get to the clinic. In the end, we got home safely and life is good again.

My mom kept apologizing for me having to be there. Anytime I showed the slightest discomfort or boredom she would tell me that I didn't have to come (which isn't true b/c she can't drive after chemo). Honestly though, I wouldn't rather be anywhere else. If she has to be there, then that's where I want to be. Could you imagine waiting there all alone? That would be TEN TIMES worse! What astounds me is that my mother, who has to get poked with all these needles, and endure the side effects of many drugs, is still more concerned about MY boredom level! And not once did I hear her complain about her pain! Mothers are amazing! What an example I have. And I am so thankful for her example.