I'm behind in the writing, so this will be a 3-part post and if you want to get right to the chemotherapy today, that's #3 below.
1. We came back very tired from a week in British Columbia, having worked furiously to get the log house in some kind of reasonable order in order to get it on the market. Tom and Mia were there for the first four days, and then we finished up the last three on our own. By the end of that time, the outer parts of the house were in very good shape, the basement was in almost respectable shape, the loft (where the quilt activity had taken place) was entirely emptied and its contents disposed of one way or another, and much of the smaller household goods were packed or at least sorted down to the state where they were ready to be packed and in fact were behind closed doors. The house looks good, although it really needs some interior paint and a new carpet in the loft in order to do justice to it. But justice is a sometimes thing, I find. Throughout the week, Ed got more and more energy, and I got less and less energy. I certainly don't know what keeps him going at that level of physical work, but whatever it is, I don't have it.
2. On Monday, Ed went to Bellingham to meet with his oncologist to discuss the scheduling problems. (This consists of Ed having to go to Bellingham on Monday to see the doc and then to go again the next day to the infusion center. Why, we ask, can't these be scheduled on the same day? Or, why can't there be some other way that doesn't involve a special trip?) I did not accompany Ed on this trip because he is perfectly capable of going to see the doc by himself as long as the doc isn't going to do something aggressive. And part of Ed's interest in this trip was to find out exactly what the doc was going to be doing that couldn't be achieved some other way: telephone, exam by Pt. Roberts clinic's nurse practitioner or by one of the doc's partners, etc.
It turned out that it wasn't much. He looks at him, he talks to him, he looks at his lab numbers. He does a quick heart/lung/neurological exam. Would a web cam be the answer the first aspect? Ed introduced the issue by pointing out that he/Ed had made this special trip down to Bellingham today and wondered whether it would be possible to trade off, so that for the next visit, in two weeks, the doc makes a special trip up to Point Roberts to see Ed. The doc, I am told, gave a dismissive laugh, or maybe an embarrassed laugh, suggesting that this was the most absurd thing that any patient had ever said to him. 'Yes,' says Ed, 'But you get the point, right?. I'm not interested in arguing that my time is as valuable that yours, but I certainly have less of it, and I am trying to use it as effectively as possible, so is there some way we can not require these special trips?'
The doc pretty quickly came round to the possibility of some other possibility, observing that 'some doctors see their patients only every other infusion visit,' but that that wasn't his practice, although if Ed were doing well, he could make some exception, blablabla. So, that's where it was left. In May and June, the visits are already coordinated with the infusion sessions, so it was just these two visits at issue as well as the possibility of later appointments becoming an issue. Ed's conclusion is that the doc is young enough to still have some flexibility in him and also young enough to be somewhat intimidated by an older person with good arguments. (My guess is that an older woman with good arguments wouldn't have gotten anywhere.) And Ed is doing well. His blood numbers are up in the normal range, e.g.
And after leaving the doc's office, Ed went helicopter flying for the rest of the afternoon.
3. Today, Tuesday, we went down to the infusion center for a 1:30 appointment. At 6:30, we were still there, the only patient left, and Ed's nurse the only nurse left. We were home by a little after 8 p.m. Another long day in which we both started out tired what with a somewhat restless night's sleep, and although the day involved nothing more than sitting in a chair for 8 or so hours, still...
The good news is that, at least at this moment (9:30 pm), he is having no particular effects from the drugs, other than the cold sensitivity. After the first session, I drove home and he acknowledged feeling a little fuzzy. Today, he did not have that fuzzy feeling in his head at the end of the day and felt he could easily have driven home, but I need the practice, so I drove.
The chemo session itself was different as a general matter, but I'll write some about that process tomorrow (with pictures), as this is long enough. But be warned: Ed didn't get the 'comfortable chair.'
