One Down . . .

At 8:00 a.m. we opened our first can of cancer ass whoopin'. And it felt good.

We felt like such newbies. When we got there the gate to the infusion area was still closed. The receptionist told us, "As soon as the gate opens you can go back."

"Just like Disneyworld," Johnny said.

So we followed about six people that new the drill. We all signed the little clipboard that announced our arrival and took a seat. We had no idea what to expect.

Mary, our nurse (and coincidentally a former physical trainer for Danny Brawley's football team), showed us the ropes. She took us into the Port Room. Sounds like we would receive a nice glass of red wine, but they were talking about Johnny's port-a-cath. Dang.

She removed the dressing over the incision and announced that it looked great. I knew it would, because of the whole butt-smokin' hot correlation with healing that Johnny has goin' on. She cleaned it all up and prepped the area and then explained the process. It really is pretty easy, and once she had the port accessed with the infusion tubing, we went out to find our comfy spot for the next 5 hours.

There were a total of 4 medications that dripped in at different times while we were there. First was the nausea medication that dripped in over 15 minutes. They let that ruminate for another 15 minutes or so and then started the Big Guns. I watched the first drip travel the entire length of the tubing, cheering it on as it went, "GO! GO! GO! GO!" I really wanted to do a couple old cheerleading jumps to wow the crowd, but since most of them were already asleep, I did actually restrain myself. I know, see how far I've come!

Ginger and John (Crazy MIL and FIL) brought Quinn and Jake up at lunchtime. It was important to me that the boys see the environment and understand what exactly happens. They haven't yet been to any of the appointments with us, so I thought they should at least see this part. I think we may take them with us to the next appointment with Dr. Ansari, because I would like them to hear how reassuring he really is. Thanks again, Ginger, I know I can always count on you. Always. (Side note: I have said it a million times, and I really do mean it: I won the in-law lottery with John and Ginger!)

The very last medication given lasts for 46 hours, so that came home with Johnny on a little pump that is still attached by tubing to his port. He gets to wear a totally sexy fanny pack with his pump in it until Thursday. Mary trained me on removing the pump and flushing the port. Poor Johnny was nervous about this, but seriously for all my cath lab/medical friends, it is exactly like flushing an art line. No more difficult than that. So I can totally handle that on Thursday. I plan on saying things like, "Oh crap!" and "Whoops." a lot when I am flushing it, just to make it interesting.

We had to stop at Wal-Mart on the way home to get a couple prescriptions and then finally made it home just after 3:00. We both got cold drinks at Wal-Mart and in the car, Johnny said that the coldness from the bottle was hurting his hand, just like they had told us. This cold sensitivity thing is really weird. It feels like the object is uber cold with a little "electric shock" feeling to it. Weird. When he drank something cold it made his throat feel really sore, so obviously he went to room temperature drinks. Mmmm, thirst quenching!

At about 7:30 he thought he should take something for nausea. He wasn't feeling too bad, but had a tight feeling in his tummy. He wasn't sure if he ate too much for dinner (THANKS, Mom!) or what, so he took a compazine. One hour later he feels fine. I think he looks a little pale, but he promises that he doesn't feel bad at all.

They told us that today and tomorrow Johnny will probably feel pretty good. It is at about the 48-72 hour mark post infusion that he will start to feel crummy. That makes it Thursday and Friday this week. I worry about that; I know how Johnny hates to feel yucky and I hate to see him struggle with anything. I hope he doesn't barf. . . he is the world's worst barfer! No, seriously. It truly sounds like he is screaming at someone in the sewer when he throws up. He could wake the neighbors! I promise I will handle it if it happens -- this is where that whole, "in sickness and in health" thing comes into play and I am totally up for it.

Today was a completely good day. Nobody cried. At. All. I just hope Johnny gets a good night's sleep with that darn pump attached to him. I know he is worried about it, but we will get it figured out. He goes back in two weeks on Monday, August 3rd for his next cycle.

I feel sorry for you cancer. You have no idea who you were messin' with.