As restless miseries emerged, last night, I took an Ativan (a welcomed suggestion from my oncologist’s PA) at about ten pm and managed to sleep from midnight to 5am, when I took another and slept till 11am. Now, much of the misery is calmed, leaving me feeling like the kind of zombie who would serve up—fresh from the oven—tollhouse cookies washed down with a blend of hot chocolate and organic blood, topped off with a froth of mini marshmallows, melting in our mouths.
The photo below, symbolizing my chosen attitude, comes out to play, quite often ...
Here it is again, showing what I chose to wear to Mayo while my bone marrow shot was being administered, yesterday.
Hmmm—Photo refuses to appear, so I choose patience. Why? Because Blogger is in transition—In late June, the new Blogger interface will become the default for all users. The legacy interface will still be optionally available. We recommend trying the new interface by clicking “Try the New Blogger” in the left-hand navigation. Please file any critical issues encountered.
As we acknowledge that my frustration will hurry nothing along, let’s plan to circle back to view the photo at a later date so as to move smoothly ahead with a peaceful sense of patience intact —
I’m sure the chemo staff at Mayo considers me a character. In fact, I’m often asked to show my socks to see if they’ve purposely been mismatched, especially on days when a bright red ballet flat is seen on one striped foot while the toe of a bright blue flat, peeping out from under my stretch jeans on the other shows polka dots of every color. Nothing like lightening up a serious day shared by patients and nurses, alike, by conjuring up simple reasons to laugh, closing the gap between staff and myself.
Earlier in the week, I was so deeply engaged in conversation with a nurse (who has a teen aged son), offering her sure fire responses that transform moments fraught with conflict into love-fests (so that solution seeking can begin), that neither of us noticed the needle remaining accessed into my port until I was home from labs and removing my blouse, several hours later. When we went back, I acknowledged my accountability for talking too much to Will! Lol😊. In defense of the nurse, many patients go directly to chemo after labs with ports fully accessed. As for me, I choose to have labs drawn the day before chemo in case results determine cancellation of my infusion as is true, from time to time. In that way, Will and I don’t wait around for an hour and a half, social distancing from others, when results prove our wait was for naught. I mean, if chemo is a go, it’s not as though we’re too busy to venture out two days in a row.
Before we leave Mayo, following each infusion, a heartfelt message always finds its way into the chemo comment box, thanking the entire staff for their friendly smiles, which ignite my own.
🌻🌈Annie
PS
So, as the photo would have shown, I chose to wear my Superman Pjs to Mayo, yesterday, and never during these past six months, within all of the many cubicles to which I’ve been assigned, have I seen anything like this on the wall ...
Photo to appear once Blogger releases my albums ...
Once again, just as blogger is creating change for the better, transition toward improvement can stir frustration into the mix unless we choose to adopt the peaceful attitude of—this too shall pass—most likely before sanity and safety concerning C-19 have been restored across our nation, which has been hurting for leadership inspired to create change for the better of a lasting nature for all people whose well being within the world power of the USA is highly valued as our unforeseen future continues to unfold ...
👩🏻🌈🌻
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