Infusion Diary

5:30AM -- What the fuck is that? Oh, it's the alarm clock I seldom use any longer.

7:25AM -- Drive to Ann Arbor, listening to crazy jazz CD (above). Usually, this time of the morning is better suited to piano trios, but, for some reason, today I enjoy this album more than I have previously (it's my fourth spin). The cover is a recreation of a famous Impulse! Records album that rocky probably owns on vinyl. rocky -- can you call it?

8:10AM -- Where is the freakishly-tall, effusively-cheerful Scandinavian blonde parking attendant? Not on duty. All smooth visits to the Cancer Center begin with her recognizing me halfway through her spiel and saying "You know what to do" while I smile at her like a lovestruck simpleton.

The guy in the booth this morning exhibits all the concern and warmth of a cashier at a dog track. I sense trouble ahead.

8:30AM -- Trouble arrives at blood draw. Nothing will flow from my port. I turn my head and cough, do a handstand, couple other Jack Lalanne moves, to no avail. They take blood from my arm. That's the easy part.

9:10AM -- Adult Infusion takes me in right away. (Patients are usually stacked up like cordwood in the hallway for hours, but not today.) The nurse attempts a blood draw from my port, with more calisthenics from me, but no flow. They'll have to order an anticoagulant from the lab [for the device,not for me] and wait for delivery, or they can start the chemo intravenously, or some combination thereof (the anticoagulant doesn't always take on its first application, sometimes requires several at half-hour intervals.)

I haven't taken chemo through the arm, but it's supposed to burn like hell. I decide to wait on the lab.

9:15AM -- Read New Yorker article on closing of Lower East Side bar/art gallery Max Fish.
Eat complimentary breakfast. Start New Yorker article on crazy Turkish soccer fan culture. Work Sunday Boston Globe crossword. Slumber.

10:30AM -- Lab delivers dose. Dose administered.

11:05AM -- Blood draw success after initial dose. My gamble paid off. Infusion begins w/atavan pill and one-hour pre-hydration drip.

11:30AM -- Headphones on, cue up The Bad Plus-GIVE. Terrible version of Sabbath's "Iron Man", pretty version of Pixies's "Velouria".

1:07PM -- Wake up, need to use restroom. This is a sign to the woman several seats away that I am free to chat. Finish soccer article as soon as politely possible. Almonds and water. Slumber.

3:35PM -- Done. Go home. Eat your vegetables.

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