Early bird chemo...I feel like I should be driving a Buick

I'm sitting here and they just started my Cisplatin, so I'm officially on chemo. Because I'm sure everyone wants to live vicariously through someone who has cancer, I'll fill everybody in on the process.

I arrived at 8 a.m. for the early bird chemo (I assume it's cheaper) with my laptop, several books and water bottles. It's like I'm going to be lounging at a very sick beach. After waiting in the waiting room, I was brought into a corner office (no big deal) by one of the nurses. She assured me this was the best room they had, with a large wall of windows overlooking a beautiful parking lot that's currently being torn up by construction. I've been told that if I stare long enough, I might be able to see a dog sniffing around one of the trash cans out there (nature!). Also, the nurses are able to accurately gauge the temperature outside based on the amount of clothing the construction workers shed throughout the day, so that's kind of interesting.

The morning began with my nurse coming after me with a needle...a much larger one than I anticipated, but since they just put in my port last Thursday, the swelling hadn't quite gone down (me poking it all weekend because I thought it looked cool apparently didn't help) so they needed this massive needle. I mocked fear, and the nurse actually seemed concerned that I was going to freak out. She poked the needle in me quickly with a look of fear on her face, and I laughed. She seemed half-relieved and half-scared that I'm a wacko.

Apparently chemo doesn't come in flavors. I requested "Wild Cherry," but found out the only flavor they have is clear. My nurse also requested that I not "taste" it and urged me not to cut the IV open and drink it out of the tube like a straw. I've found that oncology departments are somewhat strict with their rules.

After the anti-nausea IV, they put me on a saline solution for two freaking hours to hydrate me. During this time, I had to get up to pee something like 5 times, each time dragging my IV into the bathroom like some sort of metal drinking partner.

In-between, I tried to get some work done and talked with my wife, who made one of the most intelligent and humorous observations I've heard in some time. At one point, she was staring at a green potted plant hanging from the ceiling, and said to me, relieved, "Well, that's a very healthy plant. That's a really good sign." I accused her of really struggling for conversation topics this morning, and she denied the accusation, saying, "That shows the type of people they are. What would you think if you came into the chemo department and there were a bunch of dead plants." This made me laugh...a lot...but after I got done it made me think. The last thing you'd want to see anywhere, at any sort of business, would be a bunch of dead plants hanging in jars from the ceiling. I don't care what the job is...if you've got dead plants hanging around, you likely lack a certain level of dedication. I'm glad my oncology nurses have the level of dedication to water their foliage...hopefully they'll take as good of care of me as a leafy thing hanging in front of the window. Now I'm kind of hoping it isn't plastic and this metaphor hasn't gone to shit...you know what, I'm not going to check. It makes me feel better.

I'm 10 minutes in with the Cisplatin right now (Oh yeah, I'm a fast typer) and so far, no side effects. The nurse gave me several business cards with the side effects listed on them and the dates I began each medication on them, however I plan on dropping these into fish bowls for the chance to win a free lunch buffet (drinks not included), so fortunately I've got them memorized. I'm doing BEP - Bleomycin, Etoposide (VP-16) and Cisplatin (Yeah, I don't know where they got the "P" from on that either). They also gave me Dexamethasone (Decadron), which as one of its side effects includes "Moone Face." That might be the greatest side effect I've ever heard of, and sounds like some doctor with a sense of humor made it up and threw it on the card to see if his peers and nurses would make up an explanation for it on the spot. It makes me want to start warning other cancer patients of the side effect "Pickle neck."

So that's where I'm at...apparently the two hours they quoted me last week was way off, and I've got about 4-5 hours each day this week in the chair with a tube leading into my chest. I'm kind of digging this...with my job and part-time jobs and stuff, this is actually giving me a chance to relax and reflect on things.

I'll keep you all updated. If I find a different plant in this room tomorrow, I'm going to flip shit.

P.S. I'm going to try and get some "Flip Cup Chemo" going tomorrow in one of the public rooms. When the IV stops flowing and starts beeping, you try to flip that cup onto its top. Thoughts?