It’s nausea, oh, nausea…
Hey hey, bitches!
As I write this, a bartender on Bar Rescue just told another one to “eat a dick.” All class, baby.
Have you adjusted to losing an hour from your precious weekend? Steve and I didn’t get to celebrate his birthday the way we had planned, I was bummed, but that’s the way the chemo crumbles.
Last Thursday was infusion número dos at McDicky’s office, the heated seat was calling my name. I get pre-medicated with a huge dose of IV steroids, Benedryl, and Zofran. There was a note from McDicky in my chart for the nurses to not administer any, but to have Benedryl on stand by. His rationale was why give me extra meds if I don’t need them? You can imagine my nerves, but the nurses had it drawn up ready to go.
Usually I’m all
from the Benedryl, and it was nice to have a clear head for a change. I took a most unflattering selfie wearing my WEGO Health finalist button. Because I’m cool like that.
Due to the massive dose of steroids, I always feel good the weekend after my infusion, good enough to go out and do stuff (100mg solumedrol = 90 billion bottles of 5 Hour Energy), and it isn’t until Sunday that I feel it catch up to me. Unless I don’t get said massive dose of steroids, and then I am slammed with nausea/fatigue I was not at all prepared for. What sucks even harder is when you realize at 3:45 on Friday afternoon that there are no more refills on your Zofran.
We had to cancel our dinner plans for Steve’s birthday on Saturday night. Balls.
Tuesday morning finds me still nauseas, but with a full bottle of Zofran. And that’s all I got.