Week One. It's a Wrap

"You're in the front row of the chorus line."
I like these words.
At the end of my first week, Dr F gives me the low-down on my blood tests.
They look good. Very good.
I leave the Center with a spring in my step and a big smile on my face. My first week - in the can. My body is responding, G~d is on His throne, and all's right with the world.

My schlep down the hill is uneventful. Two hours later, I pull into my driveway.
I'm home. My house, my family, my bed. Ahhhhhh.
From Friday evening to Sunday afternoon, I can relax. No infusions.

Hubster and One and Only Son prepare Shabbat dinner while I hang out on the couch. You know, I could get used to this. Costco rotisserie chicken and artichokes hit the spot. Yes, I'm a blessed woman.
 And there's more.
On Saturday evening, after a restful Shabbat day of napping, I'm treated to dinner, gifts and lots of love from Lovely Daughter, Son-In-Love, a pile of Grands (count them...5), Hubster and One and Only Son. Pre-Mother's Day, don't you know.
And there's more.
On Sunday, I'm loved on by 3 more Grands.

But now, I must pack up and take my leave. It's been a delightful weekend - too short.
Time to return to Century Wellness Center for my second week.

On Monday, the routine begins again. I meet with Dr I for an exam. All my innards are good and healthy. Recovery is progressing as planned.
As I enter the infusion room, my IV friends are there too. We've all survived our weekend, and we greet each other like college buddies returning from our weekends. We catch each other up with our stories.
Back to the business of healing.

On Tuesday, I meet with Dr M. Such a treat. His upbeat manner is good for the body and soul.
We talk about the weekend and he gives me the blood report from the test taken on Monday.
Yup, my little blood soldiers are doing their job - everyone from the Lieutenants to the Special Forces. All are carrying out their duties.
It's chemo day. Finger pokes and orange juice. Within 2 hours, I'm done.
It's a windy day. I'm ready for a little nap before I venture out to Whole Foods.

My mind goes back to the infusion room at the hospital and I can't help but become sad. Very sick people, curled up in blankets, alone and silent, enduring yet more bags of chemotherapy. Most will be there for 6 to 8 hours. And then there are the ones confined to beds in the cancer ward. Hair gone, strength gone; and many with no hope of recovery. They've given up, biding their time until their bodies can't take the stress of more poison.
Is conventional Western medicine really in the business to save lives...
I wonder.
Next: My friends and their stories.

Real Medicine

♫ Let’s start at the very beginning, it’s a very good place to start… ♫

It's a whole different ballgame when you enter a healing place for yourself instead of a loved one. Now I was the one sitting across from Doctor Y. I was the one having my vitals checked, records created - telling my story and my ultimate goal for recovery. This was now my fight, hearing battle plans with life or death consequences. It was for real, now.

First line of defense - a no stone untouched blood workup. Not just the bare minimum CBC test, but a full meal deal, dessert included panel. Since this was all out of my pocket, no insurance company was involved in deciding how little to get away with. No, I got bang for my buck.

 Based on the results I got a complete diet change and introduction of vitamins and minerals to boost my immune system and correct the areas that needed help. I got a two plus hour block of time with my doctor. I listened to her, and she listened to me. At the end of our session, I walked out of her office armed with an arsenal of weapons to kick my nasty little enemy in the touchas (pun intended), along with hope and a warm enveloping hug. Oh, and remember in my last blog where I wondered why I didn't get to sit in the doctor's office with the desk, but instead had to do the "results" chat on the narrow hard exam table? Dr. Y's office had a bonafide desk and padded chair. 

As I mentioned in my blog - Carbs and Salads:

 http://verbalismbuffet.blogspot.com/2015/03/what-wouldnt-we-give-for-that-extra-bit.html

Out went my favorite pasta dishes, baked potatoes and warm toasty bread. In came salads and green vegetables - lots of them. But my body welcomed it - like it was just waiting for me to get the wake up call.

Next course of action was to introduce my body to some hard core treatments. IV therapy.

Yup, needles in the veins, three times a week.

We began with vitamin C and Myers.

Although the body can't absorb the high levels of vitamin C orally, and can have some pretty negative affects, given in IV form, it goes directly into the blood stream. Unlike conventional chemotherapy which indiscriminately kills all cells - cancer and healthy ones alike, vitamin C targets only the cancer cells. 

Along with vitamin C, I was given a Myers cocktail. No, not a fancy colorful drink with floating fruit and an umbrella. This little number includes magnesium, selenium, vitamin C, B vitamins and calcium. It helps boost the body's immune system and helps it fight the cancer. 

Each treatment took between 2 to 3 hours depending on the IV drip speed. With recliners, a movie or soft, relaxing music and conversation with those around, the atmosphere was comfortable. And there were times when a nice afternoon nap came in handy. 

No gurneys, beeping machines, antiseptic smells. Call it a spa for the veins. I'm sure there might even be clinics where a mani/pedi is available.

Next: But wait...there's more!

GiveForward

Have a Heart

Last Thursday the Hubster and I went to our favorite little dive for Chinese food. On the way home, the conversation went like this:
Hub - "So, what are your plans tonight."
Me - "Nothing. I'm gonna kick off my shoes and relax."
Hub - "What would you think about spending some time at ER?"
Okay, this is serious. He'd mentioned the previous Friday that his lungs ached and he figured it was a new form of heartburn. He'd just downed a few chicken hotdogs on bread for a snack. The following week he'd experienced a bit of the same thing off and on. Now on our way home, he said it was getting uncomfortable. He figured he'd dash in, get some antacid pills and be on his way.
Since the hospital is about a quarter mile from where we live, he had me drop him off while I drove home with the leftovers for the fridge. By the time I came back and parked - maybe around 15 minutes, he was already in a room with blood drawn for testing. He's been in ER twice before in the course of 5 years with pains in his chest, but this time he got the red carpet treatment. Maybe they looked at his face and knew this was serious. And this is the first time they did the blood test. Before, he had the standard EKG, and lots of questions. The last time, they kept him overnight for observation and a stress test and pronounced him healthy.
The blood test came back positive for a cardiac enzyme that says heart distress.
He was having a heart attack.
I made the mistake of asking the ER doctor if it was a minor heart attack. Bless his heart, he came around the bed, leaned over towards me and with his very serious doctor voice said, "ma'am, there is no such thing as a minor heart attack." He went on to say that they come in two styles, one can be detected by the external tests, stress, EKG - the ones that monitor the rhythims of the heart. The other, they call the silent ones. The heart looks normal on paper, beats normal and strong, but the arteries are not getting the blood they need. He said these are the deadly ones.
So, we figured that the other 2 times we went to the ER, Hubster's heart was telling him, "hey we have issues here - just giving you the heads-up." But they didn't test his blood for the enzyme.
By midnight, he was shipped to telemetry for a possible heart catheterization.
I left around 2:30AM and returned at 7:30AM to see what the new day held.
Next time - Hospital Tours.