Kevin is resting. He has a headache and some mild nausea that he thinks is more from the headache than drugs. And the headache is more from being so tired. And he can't seem to quiet himself enough to sleep.
It's like dominoes where one gets knocked over and they all fall in sequence.
The infusion pump bothers him--like being tethered to a toxic anchor.
It was a long day. The 3 1/2 hours that had become 4 1/2 were actually 5 1/2.
It was the small things today that bring me to tears tonight.
They should tell you the small things that will make your patient's chemotherapy day go better. That should be part of someone's job. Not something you learn by doing.
Tha damn sticky tape.
As soon as they inserted that wicked looking huber needle into his port I had a "duh" reality check. This entire apparatus would need to be taped in place. Well taped. 40+ hours worth of tape. Maybe we should have known to shave or Nair the area around his port, but we didn't. When the tape comes off, his hair (still growing in after his port surgery) will come off with it--he's going to have welts the size of mountains.
Someone should tell you that.
I generally consider crying as a waste of good time. A luxury I don't have the time to indulge. Until now. The stupid sticky tape makes me so frustrated I can't stop the over-flow of tears tonight.
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