Today I had my next date with the movie star, ipilimumab. It didn’t quite work out for us. Given my intestinal distress of recent days, the team decided to postpone my treatment for a week.
On the plus side, my blood work looks good, and I’m not dehydrated at all. I’m glad it’s just a postponement. Nurse C told me confidentially that sometimes they even have to skip a dose. (I was not going to be OK with that.)
On the plus plus side, my fave phlebotomist B coaxed all the blood he needed from just one arm, and I found out by asking about a badge he was wearing with sneaker stickers on it that he can earn a gift card for coffee if enough people write letters to his boss telling them how great he is. He has three out of five stickers already. WHY DIDN’T THEY TELL ME? He deserves more than free coffee. He was so awesome and calm when I was in there, shell-shocked, after my collapsed lung hospital ordeal, and freaking out at the number of vials I was going to need to fill (and there were about 20, because it was the start of my participation in the research study).
They gave a plan for getting off the steroids and I hope I don’t screw it up. Lots of dosages, dates, phone calls I need to make. Fighting cancer and its side effects is now my job, so I’d better not do it half-assed. That was not a diarrhea joke.
I left and got a small chicken and rice soup at a deli. It tasted more like chicken broth, rice cooked in butter, carrots and peas soup. It was delicious and it has gone down easily.
Which is my primary metric for food now. If I do not have to rush to the bathroom after eating, it is a noble and worthy food. It’s the new umami.