I am writing this in the lobby of the Walker Building at the Cleveland Clinic, having just finished today’s I-Match stuff. It was exceptionally dull. I’m waiting for Dad to pick me up, and not sure when he’ll be here. He has a godawful cough, and has had it for quite a long time. Since he won’t be able to see the doctor back home till I get out of I-Match, he is supposed to see an urgent care doctor here at the Cleveland Clinic today. Not sure when he’ll return. Yesterday, unbeknownst to each other, he was upstairs in this building and I was downstairs, and I heard him cough and recognized it and ran up to look for him. That’s how bad it’s gotten.
One of the two others in my group has, I believe, quit the program. She had to be hospitalized on the second day when, during infusion, she forgot who, where and when she was. She has not returned and I think she will not. I am not surprised by this development, as she is a very frail woman with a long history of nasty drug reactions. It is most unfortunate, of course, that she couldn’t complete this because she was suffering horribly.
The other woman is still here, though. She finished her infusions TWO HOURS before I did. It was bloody unfair. I didn’t get done till 2:30 and by the time I had gotten disconnected and disentangled and what have you, the cafeteria had closed and I had to run off to exercise and physical therapy without any lunch. I also couldn’t tolerate the solumedrol today. One of the side effects is a bad taste in your mouth. I could put up with that on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, but for some reason my body revolted today and I started gagging and begging the nurse for pop, water, crackers, anything to get the taste out. She disconnected the solumedrol and gave me what I asked for, but it seemed like a long time before the taste went away.
Next week Dad and I are moving in with an old colleague of his who invited us to share her condo for free. The colleague is “old” in the sense of “she and Dad go back thirty years” and also in the sense of “she turns 96 in two weeks.” She retired from her position at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History less than a year ago, but still visits once a week. She lives on her own and looks and acts like a woman of sixty, Dad says, but I haven’t met her yet. Honestly I’d rather stay in the B&B, because it has wireless internet and this lady’s condo does not, but $75 a night versus $0 a night for lodging is hard to turn down. Dad thinks I will get on with his friend very well. She doesn’t have any relatives in the area: her husband died a decade ago, and I think she only has two children, one of whom is dead and one of whom lives in Massachusetts. She was born in India and spent most of her life there.
Anyway, today I go home and try to survive the weekend using some of the strategies I’ve learned thus far. The real strategy-learning begins next week. And no more infusions, thank goodness.