Yes we are identified by number in the Chemo ward, but not number only; our full names and birth dates are constantly being confirmed as well. I was thinking recently about Solzhenitsyn’s “Cancer Ward”, there being some parallels between that Russian scenario and my own (admittedly much better) distinctly Canadian one. In his semi- autobiographical novel, Solzhenitsyn too is suffering from lymphoma, spending time in a cancer ward with a number of other patients. His account takes place over a period of two weeks (which, incidentally,is the length of time between my treatments). Of course the novel is an allegory referring to the cancerous political climate in Stalin’s Russia.
My bi-weekly day of treatment begins with registering and getting my wristband at the front desk. My number, name, birthdate, address are checked each time. Then it’s up to the 4th floor for the inevitable blood tests. The results are available in 2 hours after which I see my oncologist. She reviews all my “vitals ” and we determine I’m indeed ready for my next chemo treatment.
The treatment room is a large one, flooded with natural light. The atmosphere exudes calm, serenity, and good humour amongst all the bald heads and intravenous poles. Suspended on each pole are the specific bags of cocktails custom made for each patient. The many volunteers, all of them angels, are always there to help,ready to fetch warm blankets and a variety of beverages (scotch excluded, I regret to say). I have one nurse assigned to me for the duration (4 hours). It’s an afternoon of heavy “drinking”! With a saline apperitif followed by my unique cocktail of various fluids, it’s definitely time for a bathroom break, no easy feat when you’re attached to an iv and big pole. M
However, I’ve learned to maneuver myself and my accoutrements between and around other chairs and poles. This may happen 3 or 4 times in course of the afternoon. My cocktail is obviously a lethal one, judging by my nurse/ bartender’s heavy gown, face mask, and visor. In my Benadryl – induced haze, she reminds me of an astronaut. Howard reads all the latest political outrages to me ( the supply these days is limitless). Dry crackers combat nausea (unfortunately sans smoked salmon and capers)!
And then it’s over, and we walk out into the sunshine,having had another ordinary afternoon in the cancer ward. Whereas Solzhenitsyn was confined to the hospital, I get to go home, have a good dinner, and wait for the hangover which will begin the next day. Several days later I begin a slow steady recovery, gearing up for the next round.
Although it’s a journey I would not readily recommend, I cannot say enough good things about my wonderful family and friends who have opted to tag along with me, and shout encouraging slogans along the way! My caregivers are exceptional, and I’m very fortunate to get such excellent care. Till next time!
Hugs,
Maggie
Maggie's Musings 
Thank you, Maggie, for sharing your thoughts on this most unwanted of journeys. It brings home to me the importance of treasuring what we do have – our life, family, friends, faith, and make the most of each day we have on earth. Do take care, and my thoughts and prayers for a speedy recovery.
The blog looks fantastic! Start thinking about the next one. xoxo
On Sun, Jun 26, 2016 at 3:00 PM, Maggies Musings wrote:
> maggiedyck posted: “Yes we are identified by number in the Chemo ward, but > not number only; our full names and birth dates are constantly being > confirmed as well. I was thinking recently about Solzhenitsyn’s “Cancer > Ward”, there being some parallels between that Russian scen” >
Dear Maggie, Your blog today is Classic Maggie! Thank you, and thank you for your hugs. I’ve never had hugs from a cancer ward before. We send massive hugs in return. Love,
Eleanor and John
The face of a warrior! As a Celt, I look at your gaze and think-yep, I’d pick her to be on my team. Dearest Maggie, thank you for taking me on your journey so that I feel better about you having cancer. Have I told you how much I admire you? I can’t wait to see you this summer. Love Dee
PS-there’s always the La Scala Meistersinger; the picnic is always pasta😘!!!
May you respond well to the nasty chemo-cocktails, Maggie. It’s a hard road, but worth it. Hang in there!
Arnold (and Marg)
Maggie, are your best days a few days before your treatment? Would like to get up to see you,was hoping June would work. I had cataract surgery in one eye early in June and last week had some dental surgery. All went very well. July looks good for us. Let me know how it looks for you. Looking forward to seeing you.
Elsie
Huge hugs back to you, Maggie. As always, healing energies are being sent your way.
Thank you for being such a good tour guide. No telling when any of your readers might embark on that journey themselves, and be in need of an authoritative guide book.
God bless you, Maggie. You are a champ.
We are both thinking of you lots, Maggie, and send you lots of love. Wonderful to read your beautifully written posts. Thank you!
Hi Mom,
I admire you so much for your indomitable spirit! You are a hero to me. Love you tons and can’t wait to see you.
Anth