Let me jump in. Cannonball
So I’ll cut ahead from our weekend in Ponte Vedra to Sunday wherein our hero separates pain pills and such for the heroine in this story. As he starts looking over the nausea meds he notices they only prescribed nine in a bottle. With taking one every eight hours thats about three days. Hmmmm I say, that seems like not a lot. I go up to the pharmacy to see what the deal is. Apparently, they only give you three days worth then insurance will refill that in ten days. Let me repeat……
That doesn’t add up. We’re starting chemo. We will need lots of nausea meds every week because, that the first line on the page of side effects, nausea. You’d think they’d look at that and go, this chick may need something to help with that. The chemo education doctor said, and I quote “if you get sick at home, we’re not doing our job here, call us immediately”. Remember this quote, because it will come up later.
So chemo starts monday. Seemed fine. There was an old man in the waiting room that thank baby Jesus and all the Jesus’s they wheeled him back in five minutes or less. He led off with “this woman died from a Brazilian butt lift. Go figure, a butt lift, huh”. He then went onto a review of the cafe food at the hospital, he was not a fan. But the soups, he seemed to like. The cajun bean soup was a little salty (had to agree with this) and the chili was really good (no, its not, who the hell puts kielbasa sausage and what seemed like pot roast in chili, goddamn savages that’s who). His phillipino nurse kept responding to him, just keeping him going. Just on and on like the song “American Pie”. So many words adding up to nothing.
They took labs, they were backed up. We had a consult where the doctor seemed to know less than we did because, no labs. So we went into chemo. I found out from the app (not a doctor) that her bilirubin had decreased from 6.3 to 2.9. So awesome. Maybe someone will tell us, hey, she doesn’t need a second tube. We went home. She was fine monday, tuesday a little more queasy and I went back to the pharmacy.
I remember the chemo education doctor saying we should take the pills we have every eight hours (for three days) then take another med in the middle, something that started with C (again, remember this). I ask the pharmacist, is there anything else on that list for nausea?
Nope, we ran down the list. Ok. There was the medicine she was taking but cut in half from 8 to 4. OK, maybe that’s it. They’re in foil. I dont even know the name. Perhaps that’s the ones you take in the midterm. I’ll take those. I also called the doctor to see about the second drain tube. I was told by the young lad on the phone he would get with Mody and his nurse Judy and get back with us.
Fast forward to today. Leave for work and thank God I came home at 10 from a meeting. I see Hannah running across the house with plastic bags. I hear my bride wretching in the bathroom. Now let me be clear, she hates getting sick. Again, this has happened to the wrong one of us as I enjoy a good puking. I call Mayo because, well, see above. It was horrible to say the least. I call her mother to come over and watch her and the girls split for the beach. I went to go look at a job where I think I know what’s going on as I kept watching my phone willing it to call. As I was leaving, around noon, I get a call back from nurse Judy. She got the story and said she would have to get with Mody to see which medicine they would prescribe, either this med that begins with F (finnagrin?) or this one that started with C.
Hold on, back up, this one that started with C, that’s the one the chemo doctor said throw that in between doses. I asked, politely, why in the blue hell was this not prescribed from the jump? No good answer. Seriously? Whatever, just order the stuff. I’ll wait for the call to pick it up. Oh, I also called the other day about the bilirubin and tubes, how about that?
“I got that note, I still need to get with Mody about that”. Seriously? It’s been 24 hours, could you please just mention it? I’ll get with you tomorrow, lets just get through this mess today
I had lunch, I went home. I doled out the 2pm meds. I then went back up to Mayo. You ever see the end of the movie “The Unforgiven”. Wherein Clint Eastwood just snaps and goes after everyone who’s wronged him? Yeah. That.
“I’m here to see Dr Mody or his nurse Judy” (cue up spaghettin western, good, bad and the ugly music)
“I’ll have to call them”. “You do that, Elizabeth Reeves 4/14/69. Write it down and get me Mody or nurse Judy”
I spoke with one of nurse Judy’s underlings because she was “busy”. She handed me the prescription for the nausea (90 pills) and some script for Valium. I’m not sure who they were for but I guess if you stand at the front desk with blood coming from your eyes and a vein in your temple that looks like a cartoon character getting mad, they will give you anything just to leave and stop scaring people. I explained about the three days of pills in 10 days and how that wont even cover her next chemo treatment and again (politely) explained that this was utter and absolute bullshit. Oh, and “the chemo education doctor said if she got sick that they weren’t doing their job? Please, do your job, just do your job”
We’ll get it handled Monday when she comes in.
Nah, I think during a break in the action after the pain management we’ll revisit this because I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of my wife feeling like shit. I’m tired of being treated like a number.
I’m just tired, and I know she is too. Eventually this has to get better though right? Yeah, eventually. Love you guys and blog at you later.