I spent 4 hours (no joke) at the cancer clinic yesterday. The hardest part? Hearing other people shout into their cell phones. Others talking nervously about NOTHING at all. But mostly, listening to darling hubby sighing and huffing, puffing and being impatient in his own way. I KNOW he means well, but that made me jumpy. Oh, well, we got over it.
So I had what I think was about two litres of "stuff" pumped into me. One that they call "Red Devil" (it makes you pee Red. Or tangerine. A surprise, just the same) Atavand ( to make you spacey) two anti nausea meds and then the second chemotherapy drug, Cytoxan. Just putting something in your body that is CALLED "toxin" gives you pause, you know?
And I was sent home with 4 times 3 days of additional anti-nausea meds to cover the rest of the chemo sessions. Apparently avoiding nausea is important, because if it kicks in, it is much harder to stop. An ounce of prevention, etc. etc.
One of those little buggers, Kytril, is $1100 for 30 teensy tablets. $36/each. YIPES So I have new appreciation for my hubby's employer & insurance plan, and more curiosity about just WHAT makes then that valuable.
Clever marketing, don't you think... put it with a 1 cent piece? (I think this one is Canadian). OR make a happy, floaty, busty pretty fairy. Nice associations... and only VERY tenuously connected to the realities... Of why you need the stuff, what is costs, or what happens if you don't take it.
Well, maybe marketing IS a good thing after all.
I found the Zytril fairy on a German web site. I think the U.S. Use might be experimental. I am glad for it, though.
aI am grateful for what I am learning. (any new factoid is my friend.)
a I am grateful for the multitudes of friends and strangers alike who have revealed themselves as friends and caregivers
a I am grateful I'm not the first one to have these problems so that available help is identifiable.
a I am grateful that nothing scares me now like it did before.
7 comments:
One down. Loved the comment about "nothing scares you it did before". Interesting how life makes you stronger. My Dad went through two rounds of chemo and I often went with him. He wasn't a real social kind of guy, but he liked to be read to, so I'd go along and read. Several other patients started to get into the books so it became sort of a "story hour". I wish I could tell you that the long wait wasn't the norm, but it often was for us. Let us know how the nausea goes. My Dad had very little trouble with it, due to some fine, and pricey, drugs. Good luck and postive wishes to you.
Yo, Mama. The drugs are so expensive because it typically takes at least (AT LEAST 15) years for medications to be developed, tested, FDA approved and marketed. So we (or insurance companies) have to pay not the cost of manufacturing, but the total cost of discovery, in order to make it worthwhile for for-profit companies to actually complete 15+ years of successful drug testing...so, just imagine that you are paying for peace of mind that comes from tightly controlled drug testing...
love and hugs,
your favorite b-school grad
I love your illo with the hourglasses. The elasticity of time. Which brings to mind the old Einstein quote: "Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."
hi there
you do have art here, spl!
words and pics, keep tough & glad you joined into the "everyday matters" group 'cause that is how i found ya :)
patty
p.s. & this I do believe
L I V E S T R O N G
Keep smiling!
Best of luck with your treatment. My sister-in-law had cancer 5 years ago and she is still here and cancer free.
Lindsay
Chemo can be hard. I'm glad your husband's company has good insurance, as the alternative isn't pretty.
My dad's going thru Chemo now. Losing some hair, and my mom has to keep track of all medications.
I had a friend who used to bring books on tape to her chemo sessions. She'd close her eyes and put herself firmly into the book.
Good luck and good drugs!
Nancy France
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