Girding one’s loins is the biblical equivalent of fastening your seatbelt, it’s going to be a rough ride (to misquote a classic). It’s 1. on the To Do list for a reason. Had my PET scan yesterday (piece of cake). This morning, my oncologist’s office called to tell me he wants to start chemo when I see him on the 24th. For those who are playing at home, I’m scheduled to move to my new apartment on the 27th/28th, which I explained to them, and the oncologist agreed to see me on the 24th to give me the results, but start the chemo a week later on the 31st, the particulars to be mailed to me. The chemo drug he wants to use is bendamustine.
I’ve already emailed my VA PCP about prescriptions for odansetron (anti-nausea drug) and loperamide (generic Immodium, anti-diarrhea drug) to get the govermental agency molasses moving. If she can prescribe it, fine. If she has to have a prescription from the oncologist, then I asked her to have her nurse call me with a fax number so I can call his office and have them fax the prescriptions over. The thing is to use these drugs to prevent side effects rather than treat them after you’ve already gotten them, so I need to have the drugs in my little hot hands before the 31st.
I see the oncologist, as noted, on the 24th, and see my cardiologist on the 26th, which is the day I’m supposed to be able to move into my apartment. (I need to remember to give a release of information to the oncologist to release the PET scan results to my cardiologist, since my heart was part of what got PET scanned and PET scans will show stuff about the heart that cardiologist want to know. I also need to remember to tell the cardiologist I’ve done this.) So, the plan is to start moving stuff over in my wagon on the 26th. But here’s the thing. Nothing has been done to the apartment yet.
They are supposed to lay LVF floors, change out a shower pan, switch out appliances, replace obviously water damaged window sills, replace obviously moldy wallboard (they assure me the water leak has been repaired) and reinstall a wall HVAC unit, but none of that has been started, and as of today, they’ve got 10 business days to get the apartment ready for me to move in. The movers are already scheduled. The water guy is scheduled to move the reverse osmosis water unit and most importantly, I’ve got three days to sort things out and figure out which end is up, unpack dishes, hang pictures, and put everything away, before I start three days of chemotherapy administration on the 31st. I’ve got to get this move right the first time and really stick the landing.
In the meantime, I’ve noticed a gradual but noticeable increase in how quickly I get tired and how tired I get. The CT scan I had in August showed lymphomas that were an inch in at least one dimension, and the oncologist evidently got so excited about the results of the PET scan (the CT scan located the tumors, but the PET scan shows which ones are growing and how fast they’re growing) that he wants to start chemo in two weeks. That tells me I’m fairly rapidly accumulating a tumor burden which is siphoning off more and more of my energy.
The last 8 days of January are going to be nothing if not interesting. They’re also going to be exhausting. Maybe I need to amend my To Do list: 1. Rest Up. 2. Gird Loins. 3. Get My Rear In Gear.

Prevention beats cure every time. I hope all of those little details get ironed out wtihout complications. You’re going to have enough to do without having to run behind who-knows-who to get prescriptions. I see you have blowing dust in your forecast again — it looks like the front’s just into the Panhandle. Hold on!
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Do you actually still have time to breathe?
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Hectic days seem to be on the horizon. Good luck!
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I have been slow, but I just got caught up on your posts. Your knitting is so lovely! You have certainly had a lot going on since Florence moved. I wish 2022 would be starting with a little more kindness for you. You have so much strength. I will be thinking of you in the chaotic days ahead.
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