A blessing of my treatment at-bats was that the pre-treatment of Benadryl knocked me out. I slept very deeply except when the nurses needed to confirm my identity before starting a chemo infusion. I'm very grateful that UCSF is so safety conscious, and two nurses must match my ID bracelet to the information on the IV bag. But it woke me up, and the Benadryl effect had worn off a little.
When I got my port placed, Neal came to the recovery room, having picked up a stuffed animal at the gift shop. It is a blue-green stegosaurus. Neal said it spoke to him. We named him Stego. Stego snuggled beside me until I could leave interventional radiology with my new port - Voldeport. And Stego came with me to every infusion as part of my chemo kit.
Stego is a little small - probably 6 inches from nose to tail. And Stego is a little narrow - his neck probably has an 8-inch diameter. Stego was the perfect size to wear my ID bracelet as a collar while I slept.
My hands and feet were uncomfortably cold in the ice gear. My head was just above freezing. The rest of my body was covered in multiple warm blankets. Stego sat on top of the blankets or right next to me. He never wandered off. I’d sl’d slip my bracelet off my wrist and onto Stego after the pre-treatments and before the ice mittens. And the nurses would scan Stego for identity confirmation. It was a great system that kept me safe and asleep.
It seems silly to write a tribute to a stuffed animal against the magnitude of cancer treatment, but Stego materially improved my experience. I didn't want to dread chemo days, and I knew that the prospect of feeling ill, losing my hair, being fatigued, and feeling chemo fog were all part of the chemo part of my treatment at-bats. I felt like I needed to counter those genuine impacts to quiet my anxiety about them - so I countered them with small steps to help me "look forward" to chemo. They helped even though I knew it was a psychological game I was playing with myself.My top ten chemo day favorites, besides Stego:
Washing my hair was a one-time per week treat that was the start of chemo-day.
Reading a letter from my son while I waited for my labs - focusing on his life and feeling his (and his siblings) love and support
Putting on my aromatherapy pendant
Listening and quietly sing along with my treatment day prayer list (thank you, Rabbi Rebecca Schatz), followed by my son's Maaaam chemo playlist
The text from Julian with virtual hugs
My chemo-day UCSF fleece sweatshirt had the right pockets and fit, making everyone wonder if I worked at UCSF.
Switching into my chemo-day-only fuzzy-foam slip-free slippers
Hugs, handholds, and calls from my chemo buddy, family, and husband.
A lunch treat - chicken farm sub? Grilled cheese and tomato soup? Chinese soup dumplings? I did not deny myself things I enjoyed for lunch on chemo day.
Warm blankets…lots and lots of warm blankets
I know it was a game I played with my mind, but it felt a lot better than wondering if the labs would be good or if I would feel sick or tired after chemo. Whatever makes you feel better in the batter's box is worth taking up to the plate.
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