Yesterday was a tough day. It was my second spinal tap in a week. I had to wait 2 1/2 hours for the pharmacy to get the correct doctor's order for my chemo, which sort of fueled my anxiety. Then, as I lay on that skinny little table, face down, back exposed, the doctor almost hit a disc in my spine and had to prick all over again.
Yes, I admit it, I cried. It didn't even hurt--thanks to beautiful modern drugs. It was the whole situation that brought me to tears. The thought of laying face down on a skinny table, and that I'm going to have to do it again and again and again. (but that's all. three more times!) And knowing that my back would be oh-so-sore for another week and that I would lay at home alone on my back. It's sort of funny that the discharge instructions after an intrathecal chemo injection tell you to drink 8 oz. of water every hour, which means you have to get up and go to the bathroom every 20 minutes. Not comfortable.
But you know what? Those nurses, my two at interventional radiology, Mary and Tina, they kept me in that room and hugged me and shared an orange with me and made me laugh. And Tina came in and hugged me every time she came to check on me. And Mary called me today to make sure I was doing ok.
But the best? Julie Brady came over last night and danced my troubles away. After Virginia's frantic call ("I think Jenny needs you to come over tonight" which is code for "I don't know how to help Jenny stop crying"), Julie marched into my room, wearing her paint sweats, her awesome hair in three tiny pigtails, and danced. And I laughed my head off and all my troubles melted away.