Chemo Treatment No. 3 (continued)

After we left Dr. Splichal, Ed and I headed over to the treatment center part of the building and got to pick (from a limited selection) his treatment station. If you get there early enough, you can get a room which accommodates only the patient and a family member or friend. Your next choice might be a room which holds two patients, and your next choice might be the one which holds

(Ed hooked up to receive chemo treatment No. 3)

three...and finally, there is a big communal area where people are all seated in a large oblong circle and it is quite open and quite noisy compared to the other areas.

We arrived at the Cancer Center at 8:20 that morning, but since it took so long for us to see Dr. S, we were not so early getting into the treatment center. But we were able to get a room that seated only three patients and only one other patient occupied it when we arrived. At 9:40 Ed was hooked up to bag #1 of 5 bags of different drugs he would receive intravenously over the next several hours.




The gentlemen seated in the next treatment station was Homer, age 76, former board of education member, former resident of Ellijay, Georgia. Homer was of a quite and gentle nature. He lay in his recliner with his left arm propped on a pillow and his feet raised. He said hello and Ed and I said hello...I asked 'how are you', and he replied, 'I am fine now'. He explained that the nurse had a hard time finding a vein. Luckily for Ed, his veins are quite visible and plump and the nurse got it the first stick and without fanfare.

Homer's wife sat on a stool near her husband's feet and quietly and haltingly told their story. They were retired and moved to Athens from Ellijay five years ago at their daughter's urging, so that Homer could receive better care for his emphysema. Homer had begun to have stomach problems earlier this year.They had a cruise planned for spring but the wife didn't feel they should go with all the stomach problems her husband had been having, but he insisted they go. She stated that he barely a bit the entire trip. Upon their return she insisted he see a doctor. Tests revealed he had pancreatic cancer. She said Homer had just had surgery to remove the cancer about three weeks ago and this was his second round of chemo. She said Homer had lost 40 lbs since the onset of his illness.

We didn't know Homer before today, and to just look at him, you would never guess he had any type of cancer. He would dose off during his treatment, but otherwise seemed fine. He was a gentle speaking, humble man. Homer's treatment lasted only about two hours, and soon he and his wife were packing up their stuff and leaving.

Ed lay on his recliner and patiently took his bags of liquid Hope. After Homer left, Ed inherited the gizmo that attached to the IV line that alerted the nursing staff when a bag was empty. At 11:00 he was on bag #4 which was the Avastin, the drug we are putting all our hopes and prayers into.. I left to get us some lunch and was back in twenty minutes with a sack full of Krystal's and french fries. We ate 'picnic' style at the treatment station...Ed sitting up in his recliner, me in my straight back chair, balancing burgers, fries and drink on my lap. As we ate, a nurse (or technician?) came and changed Ed's IV to the last bag of drugs. We were on the last leg of this treatment.

Twice while receiving his drugs, Ed had to use the restroom. Now, that is an experience! He cannot walk unassisted and here he was attached to needles and tubes, which were in turn hanging on an IV tower, which looks like a pole on wheels. A very sweet nurse showed us how to work as a team to get Ed to the bathroom and not interrupt treatment. I helped Ed move from his recliner to a wheelchair, unplug the IV monitor gizmo, (it works on battery backup long enough to provide restroom breaks), position the IV tower in front of Ed in such a manner that the can grasp the handle that juts out from one side...then as I pull the wheel chair backwards out of the room, Ed has both hands on the IV tower and pulls it along with him. At the bathroom it is difficult to hold the hinged door open with one arm or foot and maneuver the wheelchair in such a way that you can push wheelchair with IV tower in front and get them into the bathroom without smashing the IV tower, the patient or yourself. But it is do-able, and it was easier the second time around. Thank God, Ed can stand and urinate with the aid of bars and locked wheels on the chair. Then he yells ok or rams the door with the wheelchair to let me know he is finished. Whew!

I went up to the front of the building to use my cell phone (as there is very limited access in the treatment center of the building) and when I returned I sat down to wait out the last of the drugs when Ed looked at me and said, 'Are you ready to go?'. I looked at him puzzled and noticed he had his 'check out' papers in his lap. I looked and saw that the IV tower was empty of tubes and bags and clip-board, and the IV was gone from his arm. I hadn't even noticed!

Homer's wife remarked that when you left the house to go for chemo, you packed just like you did when your kids were babies. She is right. We brought a big carry all with Ed's treatment notebook, my reading material, snacks, drinks, wipes, and any other items we felt like we might need. In the trunk of the car is another bag. It contains wipes, towels, spare shorts, spare adult pull-ups. Just in case Ed has a 'bathroom accident'.

This was Ed's third chemo treatment, it was my very first experience with it. Ed has brain cancer, and he is gravely ill, but when I look at some of the other patients receiving chemo, I cannot help but think how well Ed looks compared to some of them. Some are bald, some are so painfully thin, some have skin as gray as clouds on a stormy afternoon. I praise God for Ed looking and feeling and doing as well as he is.

Next week...Chemo treatment No. 4.

This is what a 'communal' chemo treatment room looks like.