Philadelphia was hot and steamy. And dull. Fox Chase is in the northern suburbs, which seems to be frozen in time, but not a charming era. So I've posted a Paris picture -- Notre Dame Cathedral.
Dr. C was not happy with my blood and PET Scan results, only minimal improvement after 3 doses. He was annoyed that my local doctor encouraged me to take a reduced dose of chemo again, so we are going back up to the higher one on Wednesday. I was depressed about the lack of improvement, but I know in my heart it's working. Now I just have to convince my cells. He wants me back in 6 weeks, total drag. I did get his personal email which will make communication better. My veins have said uncle-- we can barely eek out blood from them, one is black from my elbow to hand, I feel like a Frankenstein. I am having surgery on Tuesday and getting a port put in, defeated after 2 years of putting it off. I was very sad about this, I'll write about it after. My nurse swears I'll be be happier with my port than a new car, because of all the pain it will save me.
Today at the lab I had a very intense encounter. The phlebotomist was having a hard time drawing blood since my arm is kaput, we started talking about how unfair life is. She survived the killing fields of Cambodia. She lost her husband, sister, mom and baby. They took her husband out and shot him. They took her sister and enslaved her. We cried together as she described the fear she felt every day, the cruelty of the regime and starving as she escaped to Thailand. Seriously, I'm weeping now as I think about our conversation. She is one tough motherfucker. And so am I.
