The Party Comes to an End

As all good parties,  even mine, eventually must come to an end.  I wouldn't change a second about last week.   I had so much fun being surrounded by loved ones to mark the end of chemo.  My party ended abruptly with another hospital visit this week.

I have always been one to plan my own birthdays and milestone celebrations.  This way, I always get what I want and I never expect other people to do the work.  I watch my friends kill themselves over a simple dinner party and then complain after about how much work they did or how much money they spent on food.  I am all about the gathering, the conversation, the laughter and connecting with people.  I am not ashamed to serve a frozen lasagna because I prefer using the time to interact with people.  As I get older and now living with cancer, my friends and family should come to expect more frozen lasagna and paper plates from me.

Anyways, last week I ended the chemo leg of my tour on a high note.  I attended the opening of the Inspiring Change exhibit at Wall Space Gallery which my photograph was part of.  I met some incredible women.  Aside from Michelle, Leslie Anne, Janet, and gallery owner, Patricia; I had the honour of meeting the other women, with breast cancer who were photographed.   Let me tell you,  what these ladies have endured/are enduring, makes my experience look like a walk in the park.  I left humbled, inspired,  invigorated, and blessed.

Christian was my date and when we parted ways at the end of the evening, he explained how his trip to Ottawa was a great learning experience for him.  He saw cancer completely differently after spending time with me, being in the chemo ward and meeting other people who have cancer.  He had an extremely candid and interesting conversation with Linda, whose portrait was a very powerful image of her topless, double mastectomy with no reconstruction.  Had he not learned what he did over the previous days, the conversation would have perhaps been awkward.  However it wasn't and he learned even more from her including how to be a good friend to someone with cancer.  I was mingling and missed the bulk of the conversation but Linda seems like a very cool,  direct but motivating cancer vixen.

I drove to the farm that same evening.  I expected the routine joint pain to start by Sunday and I wanted to be laid out on the couch with the full Woodstock experience.  I wasn't surprised that I felt even more lethargic than usual.  Monday was much worse and by late afternoon,  I had a fever.

"So I guess you don't want to go for a walk"  asked Susie...

The next morning, I called my dad and asked him to take me to the General Hospital. Now don't get me wrong.   I appreciate his help and it even was his birthday.  But we took a longer route because even though I should have gone to emergency the night before with my fever, he had to stop and get gas at his favorite gas station. Then we argued about the route/directions.  The Doctor in emergency was concerned about my heart rate being fast....You think?

I knew the drill this time.  I had two separate bags packed: one for emergency and one if I was admitted.  Tests were ran, I was poked, prodded and by 3:00 pm, sent dad home because I was getting admitted.  This time I landed in a private room because it was suspected that I had a virus.

Anyone entering my room was expected to wear a mask and gloves. There were the usual masks and special ones with a visor.  I snagged a couple of those to play imaginary landmine detection with the kids.  Even food trays were left outside my door.

I really was not planning on returning to the hospital but I tried to make the best of the situation.  I brought trashy magazines, nail hardener, Meta stopped by with burgers.  I ordered movies.  The expectation was that I remain in my room at all times.  I broke free once and snuck out to the vending machine but got busted walking to the kitchen to make a tea.  I felt like a caged animal.

The swab to test for flu is uncomfortable to say the least.  It's a tiny brush on the end of a thin, long handle; inserted into your nose and down into your throat.  My boss suggested I take a selfie but it is too hard when your eyes are squeezed shut and watering.  The result? Some fancy bronchial word and easily translated into the flu.  Antibiotics picked me right up and by the next day, I was trying to negotiate an early release.  My white blood cell count skyrocketed and was fever free...  so why not?  No such luck...  The best deal I got was stay fever free for 24 hours, then I could go off IV.  After being monitored for another day, I would likely be sent home.

My Oncologist stopped by when she heard I landed in the hospital.  We talked about my workout plan,  post chemo/surgery.  She talked to me about setting reasonable goals with regards to weight loss and easing back into working out again.   I didn't have the heart to tell her that earlier that day,  I was trying to guesstimate when I could sign up for the Brazilian martial art,  Capeoria.

On Thursday morning,  while it was still dark, I awoke to a damp pillow,  pyjamas and sheets...uh oh....did I have another fever which broke in the middle of the night?  Would this delay my release?  A few moments later, my nurse entered to take my vitals.  I sat up in bed as she turned on the lights.  I looked around.  My sheets, pyjamas; even my hands and face were covered in blood!

First thought was after doing a Godfather movie marathon the day before was,  where was the horse's head?

Second thought was that was one hell of a nose bleed (very dry in hospital)

Third was more of a panic....What the hell happened?

Turns out I pulled my IV out of my port in my sleep and bled unto the bed but my vitals were the best ever!

With Christian and Leslie Anne at the Inspiring Change exhibit