January 24, 2010 ~ All Night in Room 11
I think I mentioned here that I am now on oral chemotherapy instead of the intravenous chemotherapy that has occupied months and months (and months!) of time. It’s called Tamoxifen and I started it just before Christmas; it’s just one little pill that I take after breakfast. One little pill! The side effects have been much, much better than when I was on FAC, and it’s felt like a bit of a respite from the onslaught of advanced cancer.
Then Thursday my leg started to swell badly and resting it didn’t seem to make a big difference like it has in the past. By Friday, I had elephant-ankles (no offense to our pachyderm friends, but who wants their ankles???) and was making a call to the doctor. I figured they’d give me some advice on what to do here at home to bring the swelling down. No. Such. Luck. “Get thee to the emergency room,” was the advice. I argued for a home remedy. No luck. I begged to wait until Monday when I could handle the tests in the clinic instead of the E.R. Again, nope. Seems that my wonderful little pill can also cause blood clots, and while I’ve had no big success with my blood clotting anywhere else (the metastasis in the marrow has slowed that process to a crawl,) they thought it best to make sure a clot hadn’t formed.
Going to the emergency room at around 4:00 on a Friday afternoon can only mean one thing: it’ll be an all-night vigil. We’ve learned that much from the trips we’ve made there over the past year and a half. This Friday night was no exception. I literally spent the night in E.R. Room 11 with a magnificent, spellbinding view of the brightly-lit hallway and the restroom across said hallway. I didn’t sleep much but learned the toileting schedules of some of my neighbors there. Richly stimulating as that was, and with equally fascinating late-night television infomercials or in-hospital channels being the only other options, I realized once again the great value there is in being home in bed – and not at the hospital.
I know that’s not a big revelation. No one but the most confirmed hypochondriac would prefer the best night spent in the E.R. to a bad night spent at home, but as I was coming home at around 3:00 Saturday afternoon, after learning what I had suspected all along – there was no blood clot – I thanked God for home. Nothing’s as comforting, nothing’s as welcoming at the end of a long ordeal. It’s a blessing, to be sure, and one that doesn’t get it’s proper recognition all that often.
So, after spending all night in ER Room 11, I still don’t know what is causing the swelling in my leg, but I know one thing it’s not. That’s something, I guess.
. . . and, after spending all night in ER Room 11, I know this much for certain – Dorothy was right when she clicked her heels together and said, “There’s no place like home.”
You know Lori, you are a really great writer, and God is using your journey to bring that out in many ways. Thanks for the reminder to be thankful for our place called ‘home’.
Ginger