Well our first experience of chemo. It is very strange to watch your wife being pumped full of nasty chemicals, alongside another 3 or 4 couples suffering the same fate. But I run ahead of myself.
Brenda arrived last night and a welcome sight she is. Regular food and a sense of continuity in the household. For all my love of chaos having her here brings the order we need to get through. I don't do order, I try but it doesn't happen so help is very welcome. Lots of cleaning done, house looks OK, not Bren tidy but well above Chris tidy. The kids worked very hard and Olivia is still handing out prizes from her draw.
There was a feeling of rising trepidation in the house as the evening drew to a close. Thankfully "Who do you think you are?" managed to occupy a good slice of the later evening. I am sure both our families are related to great people. I am definitely a descendant of Charles Darwin, Leonardo Da Vinci and Shakespeare. I am sure Tracey is descended from Titania and Venus. We ended up going to bed very late. This was no bad thing as neither of us slept very well. That last statement is tempered by me being awaken at regular intervals. I believe I was breathing the wrong way. We slept with the window open and a lovely view of Venus in the sky. The moon was overpowering most of the sky but it could not outshine this planet.
The morning was slow, up before 8:00 a light breakfast and just a wait for chemo at 11:00. There was tension in the air and I snapped indiscriminately at children and adults alike. Striking out is a defensive mechanism of mine (and most people), the kids get the brunt of it. They act so normal when things are not normal. Any way raised voices and off late. We still got to the RUH in time, the view across Lansdown was lovely in between the showers. We went in quick, I took the reading material and realised I had left my glasses in the car. No time to go back and get them. We sat down and waited. The cancer area at RUH is very busy so it is a good place for people watching, I play spot the wig which is really unfair and get regularly told to shut up by my wife who is acutely aware of how loud my voice is. In a few weeks it could be Trace, or it might be a headscarf, may be a tattoo or a permanent marker. Totally unfair and the figment of a sick mind.
Anyway Trace is soon called in and chemo officially starts. Trace will give you details but this is where I have to sit and watch a very charming and overworked nurse pump huge syringes of chemicals in to her willing victim, my wife. My job is to hold on to an ice lolly (Trace will explain) and sort out any reading or drinking material. There is plenty of time so I go back and get my glasses and Ipod ,which I don't use. Chemo seems crowded, all the people being treated are women and men are sat next to them looking particularly useless. This is not a participatory sport, it is a spectator sport. More akin to the trips people use to take to look around institutions like Bedlam. My role is to support Trace and I can't do anything else. I want to be able to give her a cure but I cant. I should have concentrated during Latin at school and become a doctor but with my luck I would have ended up specialising in rectal ailments.
Anyway, 2 hours later and its over, Trace looks a touch redder but the side effects don't kick in for a little while, if at all. So we are no longer chemo virgins and are now waiting till the next appointment on 17th Sept, yet another great birthday for Vaughan. IT was almost a positive experience, no surprises, no pain. I even managed to look as they put the needle in the vein, aren't I the brave one!
So its back home, Tracey has had a sleep and granny has entertained the kids. Can't wait for work tomorrow.
Chris xx
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