Wayne, Mom and I drove downtown and arrived at Northwestern without much excitement. Once there Wayne went off to work and we went off to pick-up my muffin and head to chemo. Everything was running smoothly, which is always a nice surprise. We joined another woman and her friend in a lovely room overlooking the lake (OK... it's not the Ritz and no one offered us tea, but at least there was a window) and we settled in to enjoy (well you know what I mean) our time together.
I must start this next paragraph by saying that during chemo my sensitivity to noise is heightened. For example, if someone is talking loudly it can be painful and give me a headache (the tone of the voice and the actual voice do make a difference), television commercials are like nails on a chalk board, but thankfully the VERY LOUD voices of my family are still music to the ears (most of the time). However, the two women we shared a chemo suite with were beyond normal LOUD, although happy - it was her last treatment - we believe. Mom and I found ourselves whispering to talk and thankful when they left (I am sure they were also thankful).
After, that we had a woman who was unable to get her treatments due to low blood counts (that is horrible) and a lovely gentleman who could not speak a word of English who didn't know why his machine kept beeping (it means the nurses need to fix it, turn it off, start it again, etc.) and then it just stopped and I was concerned for him, but thankfully the nurses attended to him and he was fine.
Three different groups had been in the room with us and Mom and I were still hanging out. The pre-drugs, Taxol and the Avastin were finally administered and we were on our way out of the hospital and into the world.
Mom and I decided to stretch our legs a bit down Michigan Avenue and straight into the Cole Haan store - that's right - I may have little energy and less patience, but I can take a moment to see what's on sale at Cole Haan. Nothing screamed "buy me" so we went back to the hospital to meet our driver (Wayne) and headed back to the burbs. We stopped off at a very exclusive restaurant, "Chez... P.J. Klem's" for a quick bite and then headed home.
I am not a parent, but I can imagine how difficult it would be to sit there while someone pumps poison into your child (although I am 35, I am still my mother's child -thankfully). I'm not sure who chemo was harder on, me or Mom (I think Mom). I believe that she would have traded seats with me in a minute, but I would never trade places with her. While I am very important to the family dynamic, my Mother is the glue, the paste, the cement, (get-it?) that holds the entire family together. The DiNatale Family would NOT function properly without a strong, healthy, and perky Adele. I must admit that it is easier to be strong (throughout life that is) when you know your Mom is sitting at the kitchen table waiting for you to call (you know what I'm talking about Mom - thank you for always answering).
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