I went home feeling exhausted and drained. I couldn't believe what happened to me the night before. As soon as I got home I headed straight for bed-- I couldn't bear to sit around and wonder what happened to me and if it would happen again. I needed to kill time until I went to see Dr. MacCormick.
I welcomed 3pm and hurried in to the hospital when it neared. We were taken right in to the chemo room, where all the chemo nurses greeted me and showed their concern about the previous night's events. What happened? Are you okay? I tried to keep a smile on, but it was too difficult. I couldn't hide the fear I felt. I burst into tears in the middle of the chemo room and soon enough they were drawing a curtain around me to give me some privacy.
At this point I felt overwhelmed. I felt like so much had happened to me--I was being thrown too many things at one time. I felt helpless. I felt afraid. All I could think about was that I didn't want to put another ounce of chemo drugs into my poor body. What am I doing to myself? Is all this trauma on my body even necessary? All these thoughts haunted me ... you can imagine why I eventually broke down. The nurses talked to me and made me feel better, although they admitted that they'd never seen something like this happen to anyone before.
They gave me my daily dose of Neupogen and we waited an hour--nothing happened. It obviously wasn't the Neupogen that caused the crash of my poor body. So what now? I asked if Dr. MacCormick was going to come and meet with me. No one even seemed to know. I figured this would be urgent, but I guess he didn't consider it to be so. I, thus, had to request to see him and the nurses agreed that he should definitely at least try to come to some sort of conclusion as to what happened. One of the nurses ran off to fetch him--he was soon going home for the day.
At about 4:30, as the nurses tidied up the chemo room to close for the day, Dr. MacCormick showed up to speak with me. He basically told me absolutely nothing and the faith I once had in him as my doctor quickly began to fade. Not only did he barely attempt to figure out what happened to me, but he barely showed any care or sympathy for me whatsoever. His biggest conclusion was that they "aren't used to dealing with 'kids'" my age and so I am throwing them all for a loop. Okay, I realize that I'm not your average cancer patient, but does that make my health and concerns any less valid or any different from anyone else's? I could feel a sense of urgency as he tried to shoo me off and get back to whatever I took him from--or go home for the the day. I couldn't believe how lightly people seemed to be taking this.
The conclusion to all this mess? Absolutely nothing. No one has a clue what happened to me. And I am sent on my merry way to go home and live in fear of what will happen next.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
This is very strange. It sounds almost like classic alkaloid poisoning, as if you had eaten nightshade or datura (scopalamine or hyosciamine). With the mydriasis (your pupil dilation/ blindness), sudden hypertension and dehydration. “Hot as a hare, blind as a bat, dry as a bone, red as a beet, and mad as a hatter,” is how they used to describe nightshade cases. I wish I had some more reasonable suggestion, though! Hopefully it won't occur again.
Miles
Post a Comment