It was around the middle of December, 1999, while I worked full time I wasn't getting enough sleep because of the pain. I refused to take a narcotic since it made me drowsy and not fully functioning so I resorted to Tylenol which provided not much relief.
As a result I reluctantly called Dr. Lee, my oncologist and said, “I can’t deal with the pain any more. I guess I’m ready to do chemo.” He understood my feelings and assured me that he felt this was the best help available. Yeah, right—poison.
On the last Friday of that year I found myself seated in a comfortable recliner in Dr. Lee’s office. My dear friend, Velma, offered to drive me there and home and even to stay with me for the duration. What a gift from her! So there we sat in a row of about six similar recliners all with an individual as unfortunate as I, each in various stages of this awful disease. Velma sat on a straight chair beside me so we could talk. She didn’t hold my hand but it would have been a nice touch. She knew me too well, though, and knew it would embarrass me.
The nurse came over to start the chemo drip on me through an IV line into my arm. I noticed immediately her fingers were chapped and red and I wondered how she maintained the sensibility in her fingers needed to place needles in veins all day long. I commented to her about her hands and she said it resulted from the chemo. She never handled it but evidently enough of it got on her fingers to cause the state they were in. I should have called it quits then and there but the pain kept me in the chair.
Velma and I sat there for six hours while the poison dripped into my body. The nurse came by frequently to check on me and offer water and words of encouragement. I felt nothing—it could have been a saline drip for all I could tell. Velma and I kept a lively conversation going and I am still thankful to her for generously giving me her time and keeping my mind on other topics. We had a great time. She is now with the Lord she loves.
Y2K (remember when everyone worried about that?) came and went with no startling changes. I went to work everyday but discovered about mid week I’d developed a severe case of diarrhea. Now, diarrhea is not something I really like to talk about or dwell on and perhaps you might wish I wouldn’t mention something so gross but it is germane to my story.
I purchased a box of adult diapers amazed I needed them but I’d found it had become imperative. On Friday of that week, I discussed with my superior at work and good friend, Carol, how difficult it had become to drive myself to work. She suggested I contact Access-a-Ride so I wouldn’t risk my life and others driving to work. I thought that a good idea and said I would arrange that for Monday.
However, I didn’t arrive at work on Monday. Instead I found myself in the hospital close to death.
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