Wednesday was chemo and look at this: my own Personalised Care Sheet. It's filled out on Both Sides. Not only did the oncologist tell me (write me) which medicines I'm having, but what they do and what side effects might occur.
I'm getting Taxol (side effect: no hair) and Avastan (side effect: no capillaries). (Remarks simplified for literary effect.)
Taxol is chemeotherapy. Avastan is a medicine. I don't know what the difference is. Anyway, treatment is 3 weeks on, 1 week off. I started with 1 1/2 hours of therapy which will be reduced week by week to 1/2 an hour. Plus the cleansings and anti-nausea stuff. Whew! No more all day at the hospital.
Instead of all the nurses treating all the patients so I never learn their names, I had my own nurse. This one is Sylvia. I think. Sigh.
Lunch was good. Real cheese in a container, not plastic-wrapped industrial stuff.
I finally found something to talk to the psychologist about, so I asked to have my day changed. She/he/it doesn't come in on Wednesday. I'm still pissed off with the other hospital and lack of care. It has occurred to me that if I can get answers from the doctors about any deterioration or lack thereof in my condition, I won't really need the psychologist, but I might as well start somewhere. I think it makes them unhappy when you tell them you don't have any problems.
No nausea, no nothing. Went to market and lunch at a friend's house on Thursday. Cooked lunch for volunteer workers (on our house) on Friday, and had a 5-hour nap. Today, the little market in Rémuzat and voting against the privitisation of the post office. Why does the government want to privatise an efficient service which also makes a profit?
Life is a vast improvement.
