So today is my first day of chemo. I don’t have a port in so we have to search for a vein. The nurses are great but anyway you cut it, I am a hard stick. Finally, they got one in and off we go. Thankfully my port is going in on Friday which will make my life much less difficult. No more being poked for blood and IVs. I am however, very tired.
I have to say that each time I meet the The Oncologist™, I dislike him even more. I am guessing that if there was an empathy class at school he failed it. As in, he has no empathy whatsoever. I was crying, in front of him, finding out that I have 15 fucking tumours in my chest, wanting to know approximately what we are looking at here in terms of time and he asks me ‘exactly how will that improve your life by knowing that information?’I tell him that if weird side effects are going to happen, they are going to happen, they are likely to happen to me. His response? “Noted.” I let him know that the constipation protocol I read through in the side effects section of the medication was not going to work for me. As stimulant laxatives are contraindicated for someone with ulcerative colitis and the other ones will simply cause me pain. He wonders, aloud, why I would tell him this.
He was disdainful of my BMI and astounded that I didn’t know what it was. He basically told me that me and my ’20 diseases and 26 medications’ were going to make me very difficult to treat and he wasn’t even sure I could make it through treatment.At least he gave me a script for nausea meds.
Now on to the good stuff. As usual, the good stuff are the women and volunteers who make this kind of treatment bearable. They make you laugh, they apologize when they stick you for the 5thtime and they make it ok. Men may run the world, but women hold it up, patch it up and take care of it.
If he us completely unable to put himself in the position of his patient, I think he needs a fucking empathy translator. Seriously.I don’t know. Could be helpful. Especially when the med that is supposed to constipate me gives me explosive diarrhea the minute
we walk through the door is not really expected.
Clearly he doesn’t know me.
Days since breast cancer diagnosis: 44