Chemo Day 7 - FUCK CANCER

FUCK CANCER. I saw that slogan today on the back of a woman's winter hat. At the time I giggled, now I have to completely agree. I repeat. FUCK CANCER.

I met Joe and his mom at the hospital at 11:15. Joe had went home for the weekend to spend Easter with his family. However, after doing well all week, he spiked a temperature late on Saturday night and started to develop a sore on the back of his throat. He monitored both over the next day and hung out on the couch at his house. I had not seen him all weekend but when I walked into the waiting room this morning my heart dropped. Up until this point you could not really tell he was a cancer patient. Today, I could tell. He was aggravated, his throat hurt him and he was starting to get the chills. So far we have been lucky with the wait time at Dana Farber. Of course today we had to wait. Had to wait to get blood taken, had to wait for the oncologist, had to wait to get his schedule for the next cycle of chemo, and had to wait to get a chair in the infusion center. Joe was not in the mood to wait today. We found out in the oncology meeting that Joe blood counts have dropped to an extremely low level. The medical term is neutropenia. After the oncology appointment we went down to the infusion center. Everyone was worried about his low blood count levels so the chemo was done quickly. We left the hospital and drove to my house. I was frusterated because I felt like Joe was not being honest with his doctors. Several times he said his throat hurt, and that he had chills to Jeanne and I. Yet, in the oncology meeting he stated that he felt fine ( I knew he wasn't fine!). Well little did he know that he was going to find out the hard way that he was not fine. We got home around 3 and Joe gargled salt water and took another medicine for his mouth sores. He went downstairs to take a nap. I went downstairs to make sure he was ok and found him shivering. I took his temperature 101.3. Panic. The doctors had told us the marker was 100.5, clearly past that. I ran upstairs and called the oncologist and he told us to come right back into Brigham and Women's. This is what they had warned us about. The worst case scenario was coming true. We got to the hospital in 12 minutes (thanks to crazy Edie). Did I mention we waited today? I had to wait in a fucking emergency room reception line! Luckily a nice woman let me cut her and I was able to register Joe quickly (the oncologist had called ahead). Joe got taken back with a mask on (that put me over the edge) to scene I would like to call "grey's anatomy". He was put into a glass room and Jeanne (who was on her way back to the Vineyard) and I had to put on masks to sit in the room with him. After receiving antibiotic IV Joe got omitted and transported to a private room for the night.

Things I have learned from today:
1. FUCK CANCER
2. Do not make any plans, things can change in a second.

I feel awful that Joe is alone at Brigham's but he asked Jeanne and I to leave. Back to the hospital tomorrow... and this was suppose to be an easy week.