DoVA, Clay Sale, New Work, Last Chemo & Preparing for Surgery

Department of Visual Arts Student & Faculty Exhibition

Back of the DoVA postcard featuring ceramic dragon by Eli Ortega

Next Tuesday, May 3 from 5-7 is the opening reception for the Department of Visual Arts Student and Faculty Exhibition. This show features work from students in Yakima Valley College's online and on-campus art and photography classes from the past year (or maybe two). This year's show includes lots of ceramics and photographpy, as well as drawing, painting, and design work.

front of the DoVA postcard, featuring photography by Hingry Mendez

The art program has had an intensely strange time since the last DoVA student exhibition at Larson Gallery. The Spring 2020 show was cancelled because of the pandemic. The Spring/Summer 2021 show was online, though some work was in the gallery, making it a bit of a hybrid show. This year's show is our first "regular" show since Spring 2019 and our first "regular" show in the new Larson Gallery.

my most recent work, AC Cactus, featured in the DoVA exhibition

I'm calling the show "regular" in quotation marks because it still doesn't feel quite normal. We've been moving our classes slowly back to campus, but I only taught on campus in fall. I've been on medical leave since January, so I feel unusually detached from the goings-on in the department. Additionally, both our drawing and painting instructor, John Bissonette, and our drawing and design instructor, Meghan Flynn have accepted full-time positions out of state and are no longer living in Yakima. Of the four full-time faculty who were teaching for YVC in Fall, only our Photograph instructor, Chris Otten, is still working full-time for YVC this Spring (though I plan to be back in Fall).

New Work

I like how this sculpture looks different from different angles

I finished a couple of sculptures this week. The one I have at Larson Gallery for the student show was started and finished during my chemo treatment. I started building it in January, while I was doing the AC infusions. I glazed and fired it during the taxol infusions and finished putting it together before my 12th and final Taxol infusion. This sculpture isn't about cancer or chemo, like some the work I started building since, but it feels chemo-y to me because of when I worked on it.

thought not all the angles work as well as each other

This sculpture is actually based on the form of an old sculpture (now broken) from college. This version is much smaller, brighter, and with a very different surface, but when I built it I wanted to revisit the old form or shape of the broken sculpture. 

I used another sculpture in progress to hold up this one as the epoxy set.

I knocked off the top section while building this sculptuure and decided it would be stronger if I didn't try to reattach the wet clay at that stage. Instead, I kept the sculpture in two pieces until after glazing and firing. This week I joined the two together using epoxy.

This sculpture was fun to build, to show some techniques for moving the weight of the sculpture out away from it's starting point, but I'm not sure I'm as happy with the finished effect.

I also finished glazing and firing a second sculpture. This one I started building back around June of 2021 when I made a series of time lapse videos of my could building process to use in my clay classes (you can check out those videos at the link). I have more work waiting to be glazed, fired and finished, including a whole bunch of port-a-cath bulbs.

a plethora of port-a-cath bulbs getting their first underglaze coats

Clay Sale

The Spring clay sale was yesterday, April 28, from 11-6 outside of the Palmer Martin building (20). The date for the sale had to be moved up because of YVC's computer system transition to CTCLink that will be happening in May. I lost track of the sale a bit because I am not teaching this quarter. I also couldn't attend yesterday because I was in Seattle getting an MRI and meeting with my surgeon.  I'm looking forward to being there for our next sale in the Fall.

clay sale poster for Spring 2022

Last Chemo & Preparing for Surgery

My last chemo infusion was this past Wednesday! I am very happy to be done and I'm very ready for feeling good next week and having an immune system I don't need to worry about for a while. I was surprised that both my oncology nurse and my surgeon said that I should be basically done being immune compromised as soon as next week, though my nurse reminded me that I can still catch COVID the same as anyone else.

My friend Kelly took me to my last chemo appointment, which made it more enjoyable

Yesterday's MRI showed significant decrease in my tumor size. In December, my last MRI showed the largest dimension of the tumor was 45 mm. That's a bit larger than a golf ball (I just looked it up, the diameter of a golf ball is 42.67mm). Now the largest dimension is just 12 mm, a bit smaller than the length of a peanut (because I had a peanut handy). The MRI also showed no visual evidence of cancer in my lymph nodes.

a peanut, measuring about 15mm, and a bottle of peppermint measuring about 45mm

After the MRI, I met with my surgeon who couldn't feel my lump (we didn't have the MRI results yet at that time). We discussed the surgery plan and there's more to it and it will take more time than I realized. And disappointingly, it also isn't scheduled yet, I'm waiting for a call on that, hopefully today.

my studio assistant, thinking about drinking the glaze water

The surgery will still be outpatient, but they want me in Seattle the day before to place a Savi scout (the thing they tried and failed to put in my lymph node back in February). Then they want me to stay in Seattle the night after my surgery in case there are any complications. The surgery will have two parts. My surgeon will remove the lump with the Savi scout and hopefully get clear margins, meaning there's no cancer at the end of what they remove. She'll also do a sentinel node biopsy, squirting dye into the tumor to and letting it go to the lymph nodes. Whichever lymph nodes have the dye, she'll then remove those as well. She thinks it will probably be three nodes. 

My studio assistant, wondering why I never let her drink the glaze water

After the surgery, the lump and the lymph nodes will be tested to see if the lump has clear margins. If there is cancer at the edge of the lump, they'll need to do a second lumpectomy and take more out. They'll also check the lymph nodes. If they are all clear of cancer, I'm done with that step, but if any of the nodes have cancer, they'll have to do a second surgery and take out more nodes. Apparently just 25% of of the time the chemo gets the cancer totally out of the lymph nodes. That number looks bad for my chances of having a second operation, but I've got two things going for me. First, the tumor shrank a lot and second, they couldn't see cancer in the lymph node all the way back when I had an ultrasound in February. Unfortuantely, we just won't know if I'll need a second surgery (for either reason) until after the first one. In general, there's a 10-20% chance I'll need more surgery on the lump and 75% chance I'll need more nodes out. If I do need a second surgery, it will be a second trip to Seattle (I had originally thought they would be able to test the node and lump the same day and extend my surgery or get me back in the same day).

port-a-cath bulbs, first coat of underglaze

There's yet more possible bad news. If they have to take out a lot of lymph nodes, my chances of lymphedema (chronic swelling in my arm) will increase significantly, by 20-30%. The surgeon recommends, if we do have to take out more lymph nodes, that I have a plastic surgeon do a procedure to reroute my lymph system. This procedure is apparently not covered by insurance, but does reduce my chance of lymphedema down to 5%. We don't need to decide on that now, and I'm going to start by hoping that I'm one of the lucky 25% who don't need to have more lymph nodes out. 

blue port-a-cath bulbs, first coat

The other thing that surprised me about the surgery is the timeline. I had, for some reason, though we were talking about 4-6 weeks between the end of chemo and the surgery, but it looks like it can be just 2.5 weeks after chemo ends. I'm anxiously waiting for a call from the scheduler, because I want to do it as soon as possible. It seems like leaving it alone just allows it to start growing again. I feel fine enough. Though I was kind of looking forward to exercising and taking it easy (and enjoying flavor again soon, hopefully) through the month of May, if given the choice, I'm anxious to move on to the next stage.

port-a-heart bulbs, first coat

I had three appointments in Seattle yesterday, the MRI, the surgery consult with the doctor, and a meeting with the nurse to go over stuff I need to do before and after the surgery. Of course I need to stop eating at a certain point and get a COVID test, but I was a bit surprised how restricted I would be for a week or two after the surgery. I thought the restrictions would be similar to those I had during chemo (no heavy weights, walk but maybe don't run, etc), but apparently they want me doing even less after surgery, no weights, no lifting, the nurse even warned about not moving my arms too much while walking (shrug).

the only glazed port-a-cath bulb

I did get confirmation that I will need radiation and probably 6 weeks of it. We still don't totally know whether we'll do it in Yakima or Seattle. Sean is very concerned that Seattle will have better technology, but we haven't met with the Yakima radiation people yet. It sounds like another set of meetings we need to schedule for May. This brings May's grand total of cancer related doctor appointments up in the range of 6-10 depending on the results of the surgery and when my oncologist wants to see me again (after surgery).

Loss of Taste & The Anticlimactic End Days of Chemo

Tongue Neuropathy

It is strange how distracting it can be to have lost most of one's sense of taste. This is my newest chemotherapy symptom and with any luck, it might be the last new symptom. I noticed that the taste of some foods, like M&Ms, changed early on in the treatment, but fairly suddenly a few weeks ago I started losing whole categories of taste, starting with the taste of meat.

I've been working on this sculpture for weeks and weeks.

As of right now, I can't taste meat or cheese; apples, milk and peanut butter taste funny; and lots of things just have far less flavor than they used to. I had a tuna sandwich with veggies from Subway and the whole thing tasted like water (the tuna, the cheese, the bread, the mayo, the salt and pepper, the tomatoes, the peppers). The only thing I could distinguish was the one lone onion (I didn't order onions). The other night I made twice baked potatoes. (I appear to be getting over my lactose intolerance, as I can handle cheese now, though I haven't yet tested it with ice cream.) The potato, cheese, and broccoli all tasted about the same. I pretty heavily salted the skin of the potato, but even so, I mostly distinguished texture rather than flavor. Even water tastes funny.

I'm having real trouble getting into the studio regularly enough to work on it, both because I don't always feel good and because of motivation

Tuesday, when I saw my oncologist (for the last time before treatment ends!), she said that it was probably neuropathy. Tongue Neuropathy, I did not know that was a thing. This makes sense, as my tongue has felt numb for a while. She recommended I chew on ice during my taxol infusion this week, which I did, but the symptoms don't seem to have improved. They may have gotten a bit worse.

I've now let it go long enough that I'm battling against the surface which is drying out on me between sessions.

My mouth feels dry and strange, so I try to have a snack, but then my mouth feels dry, strange, and has a funny taste. I tried some watermelon one morening and though it tasted ok when I ate it, the lingering flavor was strange, and didn't go well with the fuzzy numbness. The feeling makes me want to remove my tongue from my mouth, really, or maybe just find a way to bring moisture back. I did discover last night that pears are tasty and didn't leave a lingering funny taste or feeling. Of course the timing (how far away from treatment) might impact my results.

Around the top I planned to add enough catheter-like tubes to look like a whole separate texture, but as I added them when the work was drier than planned, I'm struggling with them a bit.

Just Two Infusions Left (but more blood draws)

I have now officially finished 10 Taxol infusions, for a grand total of 14 chemo infusions and 18 weeks of treatment. I have two more Taxol infusions and then my chemotherapy journey will be over (or, perhaps I should say a week or a few later, once all the symptoms fade, my journey will really be over). I am very, very, very, very ready to be done. I've been having a bit more nausea, and that plus the dry mouth/numbness/taste just makes me more and more anxious to have this part of the journey be over.

I haven't given up on the sculpture yet, but I'm less confident in this one than in most things I make.

Last week, during my blood draw, I was chatting with the nurse and said that I only had 2 more blood draws after this one. She responded by pointing out that I would have to continue to get blood draws after chemo ended. Party pooper, she is. Sean, my husband, thought I should have realized that I would still need blood draws, but it caught me by surprise. Apparently I'll have to check in with my oncologist every 3 months for a while (I forget what she said) and then every 6 months after that for a while. And she'll want to check my blood. Boo!

The surface looks really rough now, but I still kind of think I can bring it back.

I tried to ask if I could keep the port-a-cath in my chest (because blood draws out of the arm are icky), but she seemed to think I was asking for it to be removed. Understandably, I suppose I should want it out, but the port draws are less icky, in my experience, than the arm draws. I suppose a blood draw from the arm won't be as bad as having an IV in, but I don't relish the idea. Sean though I would get used to needles during this experience; I'm not sure I've progressed quite that far.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Carli drove over from Olympia to take me to chemo. It was delightful to visit with her during the treatement. We had to wait longer than usual for the blood tests to clear me for chemo, which just gave us more time to chat. I can highly recommend having a friend you don't get to see often bring you to chemo.

Next: Surgery

I have an MRI and a meeting with my surgeon in Seattle scheduled for the end of the month. It is the day after my last chemo, which seems a bit strange to me, as that last infusion won't have had a chance to do it's job yet. At that meeting, or after it, we'll get my surgery scheduled. My notes from the conversation with the nurse navigator say that the surgery will be 4-6 weeks after chemo, though I don't remember that part of the conversation. My calculations, then, put the surgery in late May or the first half of June. The surgery will be an outpatient procedure in Seattle at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (which is changing its name to Fred Hutch).

Last week I attended a Zoom meeting during chemo. This was the first time scheduling forced me to do this. It went ok, but it's a bit odd to have ones attention divided between what's happening the room and what's happening on the phone.

How I'm Feeling

I have been feeling pretty good over the last few weeks, much better than at the end of the A/C chemo. I've been noticing more of an upset stomach after chemo in the last few weeks and I finally did have to take some medicine for it, but it's still pretty mild compared to before. Going to bed early also seems to help.

My hair is growing back soft and white, but I'm really looking forward to the scar on my face (that's been there since at least January) finally healing. 

 

The other day I did a full grocery shopping trip in a store for the first time since December. I've been buying groceries via curbside pickup at Fred Meyer or letting my husband get the groceries, but they've been out of stuff or weird about bags and substitutions lately. I figured my blood work is good, COVID case counts are down, and if I went to the store early on a weekday, the store would be pretty empty. Well, apparently 9am on a Friday is prime grocery shopping time because the place was a lot busier than I anticipated, but I also felt like I was able to stay distant from folks pretty easily. The thing that surprised me was that I got winded putting the groceries on the belt to check out. 

Another view of this interminable sculpture

I've been walking every day and doing yoga and doing a modified workout on Mondays and Tuesdays when I'm feeling best, but I can tell I am still not where I was before the chemo, especially on Fridays and Saturdays when I tend to feel the nausea and fatigue. I'm hoping that my stamina will come back fairly quickly after chemo ends. I suppose I've got a month to get some of it back before surgery.

a heart shaped nearly port-a-cath bulb

I've also been noticing that my anxiety is cranked up a bit lately. I'm not teaching this quarter, which is a decision I made right about when I was feeling the worst. For the past month I've alternately felt like I could teach and like I'm glad I decided not to. Wednesdays would be tough because I have my chemo treatment, which takes a few hours, then I tend to feel groggy for a few hours (except for the day they gave me the anti-anxiety meds) and slightly nauseated or uncomfortable by the evening. Thursdays I tend to feel pretty great, but then Fridays and Saturdays (and lately Sundays) my tummy and my chest hurt and I feel uncomfortable and I get tired pretty easily.

a port-a-cath bulb with branching catheter tube

I try to schedule all of my tasks on Thurdays and Mondays and Tuesdays and give myself permission to rest, read, and nap on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. I've noticed that if I make an effort to rest those days, I feel better by evening. I've also noticed that, even though food is less enjoyable lately with my reduced ability to distinguish flavor, I seem to do better if I eat certain foods with the aim of passing my weekly blood tests. 

my spinach smoothie look disgusting but taste fine

I've been drinking smoothies with spinach most days. The goal of the smoothie is to consume spinach, wheat germ, fruit, and water with the aim of staying hydrated and fighting anemia. I also have Dave's Killer bread (the kind with lots of seeds and nuts) every morning because that was recommended to help with the liver enzymes. Both of these measures have been generally better since I started adding these things to my diet. And as long as I can't distinguish flavor very well, it kinda doesn't matter what I make for breakfast. The good news is that fruit and vegetables so far have seemed to retain the most normal flavors.

 

Fun with Anxiety Meds

trying out some different approaches to my port-a-cath bulbs

This week marks 75% of the way through my 20 weeks of chemo. On Wednesday I had my 8th round of taxol, my 12 infusion overall, and my 16th week of chemo. Just four more Taxol infusions after this one. All my remaining infusions are on the same calendar page. I also got the results of my ultrasound. No evidence of cancer in the lymph nodes (we already knew this) and the tumor has shrunk from 2.7 x 2.4 cm in November to 1.3 x 1.1cm! The MRI coming up will be more precise, and hopefully also smaller since I'm still doing chemo.

twins

When I started Taxol, they were concerned that I could have a reaction to the chemo during the infusion. For the first several weeks they monitored me for that reaction. I did have some discomfort, but it was during the premeds (antinausea, steroids, and pepcid in the IV and a Benadryl pill to swallow). The discomfort was a pain or pressure in my chest, but as it was happening before the Taxol, it didn't seem to be a major concern. I was pretty uncomfortable, though, and I brought it up to the nurses who suggested that it was indigestion. I was having similar discomfort, though not as severe, pretty much every day, so on the nurse's suggestion I started taking Pepcid daily. Later I switched to Omeprazole which seemed to help a lot more with the daily discomfort.

underglazed and ready to fire

By the fourth week of Taxol, the pain in my chest during premeds was pretty intense, causing me to be unable to read or talk or watch a video until the pain subsided, so I brought it up again to the nurse. My nurse that day said, as they all have said, that there really was no reason I should be having pain during premeds. I indicated that it had been a problem for all of Taxol but not during A/C. (Telling me that I shouldn't have pain during premeds is like the nurse telling me I should calm down when I came into the hospital in labor. I was holding onto the bed rail and she told me it wasn't that bad. Then she did an exam and told me I could hold on to the rail all I wanted as I was further along than she thought. Let's maybe just assume that I know when I am in pain and how intense that pain is).

first layer of underglaze for the sculpture in progress

The next week I brought it up to my oncologist who saw that one of my antinausea medicines had been changed from when I was doing the A/C, so she changed it back. When I told my mom about asking for help with the pain and then getting something changed to address it, she laughed at me for being surprised that the issue could be resolved. I just figured discomfort and pain during the infusion were normal. (Read on to see who was right.)

partway through the second layer of underglaze

The next day during my infusion, I felt no pain during premeds. That was the case for weeks 5 and 6 of Taxol. Excellent! I thought, changing the antinausea medicine took away that unpleasant part of the process and things are going to be smooth sailing for the rest of the infusions. Mom was right! (Spoiler: Mom was not right.)

second layer of underglaze complete

But, of course, that's not how these things go. Last week, during week 7, I was feeling really great. I had done a more intense workout the day before, was still feeling a bit of a high from that, was feeling really cheerful about getting nearer the end of the chemo, and was chatting away with my nurses. Everything was humming along, when suddenly, during premeds, I started feeling the same pain and pressure in my chest. I'd taken Omeprazole that morning and the Taxol hadn't started yet. I called my nurse over and asked if maybe they'd accidentally switched the antinausea medicine back to what it had been before.

the top broke, so I'm firing it separately

She checked and confirmed that the medicines were all the same as the two previous weeks (when I'd had no symptoms). I talked to her about the pain and what might be causing it. She said it was strange to have the pain during premeds and determined that I must be "special." She offered to stop the infusion, but I didn't see much point in that, as I'd already experienced this same pain 4 times before, so it would probably go away shortly after Taxol started. And it did. 

port-a-cath bulb

Tuesday of this week, before my 8th infusion, I met with the oncologist and told her about the pain during premeds happening again. She checked the medicines and confirmed that they were all the same as during weeks 5 and 5 (when I had no pain). She said there was no reason for pain during premeds and asked if I was feeling anxious before the infusion. I can honestly say that I was feeling really calm and cheerful, unusually so, before the last infusion. So she said it must be the Taxol causing the pain. 

twin port-a-cath bulb

I reiterated that the pain consistently happens before the Taxol begins and thus I really don't think the Taxol can be the cause. With kind of a shrug of not knowing what else to do with me (I am clearly a wierdo patient on this), she decided to put some anti-anxiety medicine in my premed. I felt a bit like this was by way of telling me I was imagining the pain, but what else could we do? My husband thought I shouldn't read this as her saying my concerns were imaginary, just as a different way of approaching the problem.

new earrings from Like the Moon (Ellensburg artist)

So the next day, while I was getting my premeds, I asked what all was included this time. As usual, they started by giving me a Benadryl pill, then started a series of syringes of pepcid, anti-nausea and steroids, into my IV machine. So, knowing that I've been having trouble with pain during the premeds, did they give me something for that first? Nope, they gave me all the regular premeds, THEN the anti-anxiety medicine. Because? Cause and effect? No? What do we think is the point here, folks?

my IV stand

While the saline rinse was running between premeds, I walked to the bathroom with my cool rolling IV stand and on the way back felt a sudden stab of pain low in my left chest and in my sternum (this pain has usually been in my sternum). I told the nurse who seemed a bit alarmed and asked if I'd had an EKG or echocardiogram. I said I had an ultrasound of my heart, which seemed to alarm her more and she asked why. I'd had it before the A/C because the adriamycin is supposed to be bad for my heart, which seemed to calm her down. 

still trying to get a photo that captures the soft little white hairs all over my head

So the upshot is that they gave me the premeds, which I think are the cause of the chest pain. The premeds appeared to cause the chest pain again, as they sometimes do, and then, after the pain started, they gave me the preventative anti-anxiety meds. Now, what is, I think, relevant here is that the pain, though significant, usually lasts just 20 -30 minutes. So I would probably be roughly as happy if I were told to just deal with it because it isn't causing damage and it will be over soon. I can live with 30 minutes of pain as long as I know that it has a fairly quick end time and as long as I don't need to worry that the pain is a sign that something is breaking inside me.

the IV tube during chemo

But instead, once I got back to my chair, the nurse gave me the anti-anxiety medicine and told me it would make me feel woozy, so just be prepared. Hoo Boy! did that stuff make me feel loopy. I'm still laughing at myself from Wednesday. It's been a long time since I've been drunk, but that stuff got me quickly and gently drunk. 

the part of the IV tube that goes in the machine

Exhibit A: My camera roll from Wednesday. I've been thinking about how to incorporate cancer and chemo imagery into my sculpture, so I decided to take some pictures of the IV stand and related parts. 

the part of the IV tube where the syringe can go in (I think)

The tube that goes from my chest to the stand has sections that split off to allow a syringe or different tube. There's a flat thing that goes in the machine, and there's a lot of extra tube that curls up and gets caught in the arm of the chair when I move around. So I figured I'd take some pictures of this.

the little drippy things that I can watch to see the Taxol bag is lamost done (it isn't)

I took a whole bunch of pictures of the tubes and of me. Ok, no big deal. This is research and I'm bored, to boot.

more silly selfies

But then, for some reason that I no longer remember, I decided to take a whole bunch of pictures of the bag of ice that I used to ice my fingertips during Taxol to preven neuropathy.

icing

No idea why I was taking all these pictures, but these don't appear to be "oops dropped the camera" photos. For one, there are 7 separate pictures of the ice bag, with and without my hand in the photos. For another, they aren't all in a row. I took a break to take pictures of the IV stand and then came back to the bag.

not icing

I must have been intereested in the spot where I'd been gripping the ice and the way the ice bag stayed clumped in a hand shape when I let go. 

more ice

Then I started taking selfies from inside the ice bag. There are five of these, plus more selfies with the IV tube coiled up in front. I'm ridiculous.

peek-a-boo

Now I find this hilarious. I'm not sure what I was thinking then. This anti-anxiety medicine is pretty fun. By the time my husband came to pick me up, I had forgotten how to tell time. My text to him says "I think I'm 15 mins from done but I've forgotten how clocks work" Except I misspelled clocks. I was having some trouble distinguishing the minute hand from the hour hand. I also texted my friend Carli, though the next day when I woke up I thought, "I better text her" (and was surprised to see the evidence of the conversation we already had on my phone).

why am I doing this?

When Sean picked me up, I honestly considered whether I was going to make it to the car. I did just fine (I think), but I did use the wall to help me down the hall. At home, I was stumbling a bit and figured it was safer to sit down. It was shortly after lunch time, so I put some food in the microwave and came in to sit with my daughter. She showed me a game they were doing for her social studies classs and asked if I wanted to get my lunch from the microwave as it had beeped. I said I'd get it in a moment and about 15 minutes later finally got up to get it.

trying out some different impressions

Except by then somehow not 15 minutes but more like an hour and a half had passed. I had no idea so much time had passed, but my daughter seemed to think it was funny. By then it was about 4pm, and we had someone bringing food at 4. I was still wobbly when I walked and still feeling pretty great, really. 

port-a-cath with spikes

The anti-anxiety meds were really quite delightful. I felt absolutely calm and relaxed and cheerful. I had no hint of worry or anxiety about anything all evening. Granted, my daughter had to tell me all her stories again the next morning because I hadn't remembered them (she says she told me twice on Wednesday, but had to tell them again on Thursday), and I'm not sure I should have been allowed access to email in that condition. I even had a convesation with my boss, which now does worry me just a bit (her email follow up makes me think I passed myself off tolerably well, but I think it could have gone either way. The person who got an email from me just thought I'd meant to send it to someone else). 

twin twins

That night, as I was getting ready for bed, the effects having started to wear off, I kept catching myself thinking, a little sadly, that the next day I had to go in for my chemo infusion. Somehow the idea that I had already done chemo was feeling a little slippery. 

more tubing

So, I am left with a puzzle for next week. I should probably tell them that if they want the medicine to help, they might want to give it to me before the premeds that cause the pain. Giving it after the pain seems, well, ridiculous. The anti-anxiety medicine did feel delightful, but all in all, I'm not totally sure whether 30 minutes of pain needs to be counteracted with an entire day of being a total goof followed by mild amnesia the next day. On the other hand, it was a fun day.