Chemo 2: BLOCKED

Mom was supposed to get her second round of chemo today, but it was not meant to be. We could have known; all the signs were there.

It was not the construction right outside Mom’s door that prevented chemo today, but it didn’t help, and perhaps it was an omen.

After last Saturday’s ER trip, Mom had a really great week. Easter was fantastic, and then all week long Mom seemed to get stronger and better.

Visitors came and were shocked at how much better Mom looked.

By Wednesday, Mom was all about ”Bring it on.”

By Friday, Mom and Angella and Alia and Stella (granddaughter) were out shopping and getting a little retail therapy in; the weather was warm and sunny, and spirits were high.

Everything seemed in place to go into Chemo 2 with high energy and motivation.

However, by Sunday evening Mom started feeling worse and worse; when I arrived around 630 p.m. I thought Mom was on heavy sedation, when in fact she had had several days with reduced pain meds and had been feeling great.

By 7 p.m., Mom needed to go lie down, and she was was out cold. We took her temp, and it was 99.4, and immediately we were concerned.

Everyone has been drilling us that if Mom’s fever gets to 100.4, we need to go to the ER immediately. Any ER, closest possible, and as quickly as possible.

So, we were worried. Mom’s temp went up to 99.7 by 10 p.m., and I decided to sleep over and Alia came back and called the overnight on-call doctor.

We had a call back within minutes — and having a doctor call you back at 11:15 p.m. on a Sunday night is both wonderful and sobering, because it is another realization that this is not a ”normal” medical situation. What Mom is going through is extraordinary. It is happening everyday to thousands and thousands of people, but it is something that happens in a space far outside the regular.

The doctor told us that we knew Mom best and, if we wanted to bring her to an ER, to do so, but if we wanted to let her sleep and check her temp again in a little bit, they would support that as well.

We opted for the latter, and by midnight Mom’s temp was down to 99. I stayed awake on the couch for a few hours, watching old episodes of The Sopranos, and around 2:30 a.m. Mom’s temp was still 99, so I decided to get some sleep myself.

After all, in the morning we were off for another long day at Penn’s Abramson Cancer Center. We knew this sort of thing was to be expected, but still, it catches you off-guard in a way, especially after such a ”normal” week. I think we all, unconsciously, or maybe even consciously, just want this not to be happening, and it is easy to convince yourself of that alternate reality if you are not careful. And who wants to be careful about that? It is much better to just sit and chat and eat with Mom and put all of this out of the forefront of your mind.

And then, without fail, reality will remind you what is what.

When I woke up and started getting ready, I noticed that the long-delayed and oft-delayed re-paving project on the street outside of Mom’s was finally looking to be finished… and I could tell it was going to overlap with when we needed to leave. You can check my Facebook if you want to read my rants about this Streets Dept. mess that has haunted us for like 4 weeks now. But this is not the space for that.

I kept looking at the Roller, parked right in front of Mom’s car, blocking the street and blocking our driveway, and wondering ”It is going to block us? Are we going to be blocked? Will I have to go out and tell them that my Mom needs chemo, and will they move everything out of the way? What if they can’t, and we miss our appointment? Will they reschedule?”

Fair questions, and ominous.

Because we would be blocked — not be the construction projects (which I evaded by moving all of the cones, driving on the sidewalk, making a u-turn in a neighbor’s driveway, and driving the wrong way on a one-way street for blocks and blocks) but my Mom’s White Blood Cells.

Surely, those of you who have been through this cancer/chemo dance were not surprised by the WBC issue. I understand it to be common. Our provider was adamant that Mom’s numbers were fine, that this was normal, and they just wanted to reschedule so she could have some time to get stronger. She repeated that Mom is starting out with the most aggressive chemo plan possible, and delaying and reducing dosage is normal, expected, and part of the plan.

So, we are wrapping up our day early. Mom is getting some IV fluids right now, and we have rescheduled the next three appointments. Mom can still have visitors, as her WBC are not at a dangerous level yet but they are still way too low and too low for chemo, so we might have some increased precautions when stopping by the house.

Either way, in a little under an hour we will head back home, hopefully onto a freshly paved street.

And we’ll try again next week.