I Remember (as written Friday, June 10)

I am sitting in the chemo room...again... waiting to undergo treatment.

I am forcing myself to write before the meds kick-in and take me under.

I usually disapear this way.

Seated around me are women, most of whom are black.
They are surrounded by other women, various shades of mocha.
We are a village.
A custodian walks in to empty the trash cans.
She comments that we all look the same.
She is right; we are the original Village People.
But today, I don't feel like much of a "Macho (Wo)Man."  


I know I should be grateful. At least I'm not getting chemo.
I only need my infusion of Rituxan.
Yet being here,
having to be here, 
causes a flood of memories to overwhelm me.


I find myself fighting back tears when the chemo nurse, working on the patient across the room, has trouble accessing her port. I watch as the woman's feet flutter in an anxiety-ridden avalanche.

And I remember.


Her15th treatment doesn't diminish the nervousness that I witness.
It's a process you never get used-to; it never gets easier.
Relief is only temporarily achieved after the chemo nurse has successfully accessed the port and there is a return blood flow.


I remember.


My nurse is ready to begin. She dons her mask and pulls out the port-access kit. I kindly remind her for the second time this morning that my port has been removed. She smiles, searching for a vein instead. The one she selects is hardened, the product of last year's Adriomyocin. She tries another, but it won't give up the blood.

A second nurse is called over.
"Maurene can always get a vein." 
Success,
but the blood return is slow, which means my counts will be unreliable, possibly wasted.

I remember.

It is 11:00 a.m. now.
The Rituxan is hung, and I realize I won't be leaving the hospital before
1:00 p.m. I thought I'd waltz in, take my medicine and disappear for seven days.

This is much harder than I anticipated. Jeff is not here, and I find the loneliness unfamiliar. 



Two more villagers enter the treatment room.
I am depressed. 
I need sleep NOW!