I had my appointment today. The closer it gets to the end of chemo, the more I can't wait to get on with things. Next Wednesday is my last infusion. I may have had a chip on my shoulder when I got there, anticipating answers that would not be welcomed, but I tried really hard not to let it show. I think I succeeded.
First, I waited 30 minutes from the time my vitals were taken until the doctor came in. I know things can get off schedule, but this is a HUGE pet peeve of mine. Don't tell me the various reasons that can cause it. I won't accept them. It is EVERY doctor in EVERY field that I have EVER seen. I think it is rude and indicates that they think their time is more important than mine. If it happened SOME of the time, or even MOST of the time, maybe, but it's ALWAYS. Thus ends that particular rant.
I asked when the port would be removed, and she said they will leave it in through radiation. This is in case anything happens that requires access. That situation has never happened to any of her patients, but they'll leave it in just in case. (avoiding another rant, here.) After radiation, it will be removed, often in the office.
She kept talking about during radiation and after radiation, so I finally asked, "So am I having radiation? Because before we started, you said it would be decided later." She agreed that the appointment with the radiology oncologist was to make that determination, but then listed off the reasons I need it. So much for me and the other doctor deciding.
Finally, she was shocked by the amount of pain I'm having on Taxol. She thinks that the culprit is the Neulasta shot. I explained that I had 1/3 the severity of pain for 1/4 the duration from the Neulasta during all four cycles of A/C, and it got this much worse since switching to Taxol. She insisted that it must be the shot, so we're going to skip it next week.
Skipping it is OK, since it's use is to boost white cells in time for the next infusion and I won't have a next infusion after that one. Fine. In that way, it's worth a shot (no pun intended.) Let my white cells rebound on their own. I was agreeable about the plan. Maybe I won't lose an entire weekend next time.
Then she said, "You'll just have to be extra diligent about hand washing and avoiding anyone that might be sick. If you get a fever, we may have to call in an antibiotic for you or admit you to the hospital again." She said it so matter-of-factly. Oh. Cool. So I might go back into the hospital again. Sweet.
Finally, she told me FOUR times that I'm doing so well. I'm doing great. I've handled it so well. I'M NOT DOING GREAT! I'M FEELING LIKE A BIG WHINEY BABY AND I WANT THIS TO BE OVER RIGHT NOW! (Insert foot stomp here)
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why you don't blog when you're crabby.