The Untainted Bucket

It was with much anticiptaion that I had my first chemotherapy session this Tuesday.  Mr. T and I went to Bordet to check me in. Since all of the day clinic spots were taken I was admitted on the ward for the day.  First event was the inevitable blood test (lucky for me that I've got great veins!) just to check the white blood cell count before proceeding. Then the nurse opened the port-a-cath , the catheter implant put in specifically for the chemo sessions.  I didn't feel a thing. 
Alec and Virginie came after lunch so that Mr. T could go home.  The nurse gave me a shot of Phenergan (anti-allergy, which made me a bit sleepy) and then hooked up my drip with several incoming tubes, one for anti-nausea medication, and the other with Taxol in a glucose solution.  It took about 2 hours for that to go in, and then another hour for the Carboplatin.   Very uneventful afternoon just snoozing, chatting with A & V, and doing some knitting.  Once unplugged, Mr. T fetched us and took us all home.
Amazingly enough, I didn't really have any adverse reaction to the treatment.  I had been warned that the first four days would be the toughest, so I was prepared to be sick, but to what extent I had no idea.  The pleasant surprise was that I was hungry for supper, and the new bedside bucket that Alec and I had shopped for last week remains unused.  
The next day, Virginie and I returned to Bordet for a consultation with the "ergotherapist" in the rehabilitation center who showed us all sorts of ways to wrap turbans, using scarfs that I had brought and things that she had on hand.  The rule of thumb is that my hair should start to fall out about 14 days after the first treatment, so I wanted to be prepared.  I can't stand the idea of having a wig, so I'm opting for the exotic look, stopping somewhat short of Carmen Miranda's style.
That afternoon, I had my first MRI to focus in on what's happening in the abdomen-pelvic area.  An excellent exercise in "letting go": I was hooked up to -- yet another -- drip for the contrasting agent, strapped to the guerney with plastic plates full of solenoids, kitted out with industrial strength headphones and a little beeper in my hand in case of panic, and then left on my own with the machine for about 30 minutes.  I had decided NOT to open my eyes since I didn't really want to see how confined I was and I managed to not cheat.  To make the most of my time, I meditated but what a challenge that was!  Me:  "May I be filled with loving-kindness."  Machine:  "Inspirez et bloquez"  Me: "May I be peaceful and at ease".  Machine:  "Respirez normalement" Me:  "May I be healthy"  Machine: "BOOP BOOP BOOP", Me:  "May I be happy"  Machine: "DEET DEET DEET".   Although incredibly grateful to have access to such advanced medical technology, I was relieved to be set free.
Coming home afterwards, I was really tired and experiencing twingy pains in my abdomen and rib cage.  This went on through the evening and though a bit unnerving, I attributed it to the fact that the meds were actually working on those pesky little cancer cells.  Thus, my running rendition of the cancer cells trying to contact their Mother Ship:  "Capitain, captain, we're experiencing problems with the beta-tubulin binding.  Microtubule disassembly is malfunctioning.  Apoptosis is in overdrive!  DNA replication fail." 
Snow on the ground when I woke up yesterday.  I was moving a bit slowly so I took it very easy all day, just knitting, watching a PBS show on Darwin and chatting with Virginie.  Nice nap, and then Alec took me out to air me "like an old mattress" as he said.  We went for a walk in the Park Duden, and marvelled at the snowscape, quoting from the cult movie, In Bruges, "It's a winter f**king wonderland!".   
And it still is today.