Oh, the indignities

The first one came from his radiation oncologist. He told Jim that he thought he was doing very well and was in the 75th percentile of patients regarding reactions to treatment and maintenance of "health." 75th percentile? This to 99th Percentile Chaffee? The cheek of the man.

Then next came this morning. When I left on my morning constitutional Jim was sitting at the computer doing his morning reading. When I came home 45 minutes later he was face down on the keyboard! I tried to rouse him but he was really out cold. I finally got him to his feet and was moving him across the room to the bed when he collapsed on top of me. We hit the corner of the bed and there was about 140 lbs. of dead weight on top of me. I called for Alex and together we got him up and over onto the bed where he slept for about an hour.

Then came a scene at the hospital. I dropped him and Alex off and went to park the car. When I made it back to the waiting room Jim was in a seat next to Alex but there was a strange looking wheelchair pushed to the side. It resembled a market shopping cart. Apparently after I dropped them off Jim's legs just gave out and he fell into Alex's arms. She called for some help but the security guard stationed outside the hospital said he couldn't get a wheelchair for her because it cost a quarter! Some kind guardian angel appeared with 25 cents, liberated a chair from the rack and gave it to them. Alex folded him into the chair and off they went. But in the waiting room he kept slipping in and out of consciousness. When the nurse called him in to see the doc he tried to stand up, fell back into the chair and was out like a light. Much hustle and bustle and the doc appeared, took Jim's pulse, and we were ushered into the back. Jim was mortified, once he "came to" and was mightily embarrassed. The problem? Blood pressure of 89/47. That will do it. The reason? Most likely the collision of pain meds with anti-emetic meds.

The doc finally examined him, gave him the OK to proceed for chemo. He has prescribed injections of Procrit for one month because Jim is anemic; one shot a week for four weeks. Then we left and tore across town to the radiation clinic for the Thursday zap. Then we retraced our steps to the hospital for the 3rd and FINAL chemo. Jim's blood pressure was still very low but they went ahead anyway.

While he went through all of that nastiness Alex and I had a lovely lunch, did some smart shopping, and had a generally leisurely afternoon. We went back to the hospital about 3:30 and waited until Jim has finished his infusion. We finally got away from there about 4:15 and made it home through Thursday afternoon commute traffic by about 5:15. Just in time to hear some warm tributes to Ed Bradley.

This day marks the end of chemotherapy. That is something about which to rejoice BIG TIME. Tomorrow is one more radiation before a blessed two day rest during which the worst effects of chemo will either be evident or, once again, he will have dodged that bullet.

But now it is time for him to go to bed and try to get the rest that he needs. He just needs to go easy on the morphine. It does strange things to him.