A setback

Well, today WAS supposed to be my next-to-last chemo. I have been anticipating these last two rounds, so that my life will (sorta) belong to me again. No medical folks micro-managing my life, no tests or treatments. Just me and whatever the day deals me (or that I deal myself). You know: a "normal" life.

[I don't think I have led a normal life since Greg died. And, ironically, that was 4 years ago TODAY. The weeks and months after that seemed to drag, at times appearing to go into reverse. Widows and widowers will know just what I mean by that. The rest of you are fortunate enough to not have faced that.]

Continuing on that aborted chemo: we have a routine now. We drive to my nephew and his wife's home in the Twin Cities area (Minneapolis/St. Paul and its suburbs, for those of you who don't know where that is), where they graciously allow us to stay overnight, free of charge. Then we arise the following morning, grab a cup of coffee at their home, and drive to the University of Minnesota campus area. We have a small breakfast at a local cafe' - okay, it's the Purple Onion - then motor over to the parking ramp which serves many, MANY patients and their families/friends on a daily basis. We must, by nature of the process, first see a nurse/practitioner (or sometimes an M.D.) who goes over previous data. In my case, there's not too much to review, as I have been MOST fortunate to have little-to-no side effects. Then we trudge over the Masonic Clinic, where I must have a blood test at their lab, and then onward to the 5- or 6-hour infusion process of chemo. But. Not. Today. I did have my lab work done, and then we sat, as usual, waiting for our "buzzer" to alert us to proceed to the chemo area. The buzzer is like those devices they hand you in restaurants, so you are summoned when your table is ready. We had been waiting about 40 or 45 minutes, when a young woman appeared in the waiting room and called out, "Jessica?" Of course, I wasn't sure that she was looking for ME. But unfortunately, that was the case. It seems that my platelet count was low, so low that they would not allow the chemo to be administered. I was pissed - just pissed. I had so, SO wanted to have these last two sessions out of the way, to be on my way to having HAIR again. If you have your hair, and have never lost it, you just CANNOT relate to what hair means to a bald woman (or possibly a bald man, either). It makes a woman feminine, gives us a way of presenting ourselves the way WE want to appear. NOT the way that fate has dictated that we appear.

So... of COURSE they could not reschedule me on Tuesday of next week. OF COURSE NOT. Now, instead of May 15th, my next scheduled chemo is May 24th. That's OVER a month after the previous one. And that pushes my next (last?) chemo date to possibly June 14th. Just three weeks before my birthday. Happy friggin' birthday to me...

BTW, they now tell me that they can have my blood test done up here in the Duluth area, so we will NOT have to waste another trip to the Cities with the same damned results. Whooppee... not much consolation for me today.

Sorry, readers. I am just so down and the only way to get this out of my system is to blog about it. Deep down, I know this is just a little setback. But why now, why me? I think these are questions I have been asking ever since May 15, 2008. I am ready for a little "normal".