It's A Chemical World.

The week of my first cycle of chemotherapy had arrived. It was a cold but sunny winters day. I had arrived at the Hospital Phlebotomy Department to give a sample of my blood the analysis of which would determine if I could go ahead with the treatment the following day. Sample given I waited in the Portacabin that passed for a waiting room. Results through. Green light means go! I went home to steel myself for the next day. After a fairly uneventful taxi ride to the hospital I arrived at the Chemotherapy Day Unit. I checked in at reception at took a seat in the waiting area. I was both nervous and strangely excited, probably due to the steroids I had to take prior to having the chemo. After a short wait I was called through to take a seat in the Chemotherapy suite. The chairs were a well worn, beige version of a 1970's recliner. I chose a seat near the window and picked up a few Top Gear magazines from the stack of well passed their sell by date mags. After a couple of pages in (just passed the adverts) a Nurse came over to me and introduced herself as the person who would be giving me my treatment for the day. Pleasantries exchanged she plunged my left hand into a bowl of hot water to retrieve my veins which had gone into hiding, partly due to the cold weather partly due to fear! After a few minutes she painlessly inserted a cannula into a nice fat vein. And so it begins.. A flush of saline and then a small bag of Piriton... Two Paracetamol... And then my new best friend litre bag of Rituximab (diluted in more saline) This was administered over a period of six hours, slowly at first, then more quickly as I was coping well with it. To be honest, apart from feeling snoozy ( due to the piriton) I wondered what all the fuss was about? Does chemotherapy really make you feel awful? (as I was told it would) I would find out the next day when I was to come back for the three other drugs in the regime.