Round three

Yesterday morning I went for round three, yet this time I arrived with alot less dread or sadness. Steph drove me in. Ah resignation has truly set in I am finally grappling with being a 'cancer patient'. Stew and myself decided to go late, just because we could. Initially a fabulous idea to have half an hour longer in bed but one that meant we missed our usual corner and chairs in the chemo lab. I never thought of myself of needing things to be the same, I am usually a very malleable person who is not attached to ritual, but this felt truly difficult. New chairs, a new corner. the women in our old corner was sprawled out under a blanket having a deep and lustrous sleep. I was jealous of her for numerous reasons.

Another hour wait and then the same nurse served me up some new medications for nausea as I had spoken of the 5 hour vomit session that had occurred two Fridays ago in the not so private setting of a dinner party at my house. I told the only women present at the dinner who didn't know I was going through chemo that I had a stomach bug. My eyes probably gave me away, they usually do. Chemo went fine, Pullpa presented sandwiches and we sat munching and discussing the possibility of Barrack Obama becoming president of the United States. I was arguing that I didn't think that Barrack could win, that although he was extremely charismatic and a fantastic public speaker who could evoke much needed fundamental changes in U.S foreign and domestic policy, that the percentage of bigots in America wouldn't allow for his election. Stew spoke of how no-one thought he would be able to be a candidate, let alone his impending win over Hilary Clinton, he stated that he was the most charismatic and impassioned candidate since J.F.K and therefore the people of America weren't seeing his color but his charisma and shiny whites. The discussion was interrupted as I was plugged in and red liquid seeped up the tubes into my arm. Chemo went allot faster. Thank god for small miracles.

One patient behind the wall of the communal seating area had an allergic reaction to the chemo and was violently gasping for air. The nurses all left their chemo stations and ran to attend to her as her breathing was now in short sharp inhales with patches of moans and groans. She had almost a death rattle to her. I turned up my ipod and tried to distance myself from the reality of people in the other room who usually look like they are on the brink of death. I would see them as I passed through the second room to go to the toilet, wheeling my IV with me like an awkward and un co-ordinated dance partner, the patients in the other room are lying on beds, some due to just being tired or quite old but others because they are fighting for life.

Their skin is often pulpy and grey with dark bags under their eyes, sometimes a yellow tone is present indicating that their kidneys were protesting and the immune systems packing up. It is so interesting to watch the color changes of cancer patients skin. I had a shower this morning and starred absently into the mirror. My skin has weakened to a shade paler and slightly more translucent. This usually only lasts the first few days, but I fear it will take over from my predominantly peachy pink complexion permanently. The beds in the other room heave with uneven breaths and their hazy eyes speak of the unspeakable, of death. I always walk quickly with my IV to the toilet and back to my chair where people are seated and even sometimes chatting and smiling, their skin still has remnants of health and eyes speak stories of life and future.

Poppy seed cake was handed around that one of the patients from the lying down room had made. Although I have recently initiated a strict regime of no-sugar and very little wheat diet I couldn't resist and me and stew munched down the cake as the last bag made a v line for my veins and the beeper indicated my time was up for another fortnight.