What's it like in the chemo unit?
It's peaceful, relaxed, and less like a medical unit than any of the clinic rooms I regularly visit. If you've got to come, this is the place to spend a few hours hooked up to a poison.
Weather is said to be the hottest of the year today - I sat at the station for twenty minutes waiting for a train that ended up being delayed with no further info, so caught a cab from outside in the end, and enjoyed air conditioning all the way here. I was starting to get a bit of a headache by the time I arrived - 45 minutes is very good though, and the taxi driver was happy to ignore me in favour of the Wimbledon reporting on the radio, which is what I like.
Back to the chemo unit - they're running late today so it's taken me half an hour to get hooked up to my first drug, but the two only take 45 minutes combined these days so I don't complain. I should be out of here within the hour now that things have started up. Should have nipped to the loo first though.
Patients are settled into huge pleather lazy-boy type chairs which you can lean back or have your feet raised at the touch of a button, and every patient chair has at least one beside it for a guest. Most people come with someone, or bring some entertainment - magazines, book, phones and tablet PCs. There's a lovely element of calm that the staff have always maintained whenever I've been here - if you're at extra risk, or the drugs make you sick or some other reaction, there are lots of side rooms you can be secreted into to keep everyone else comfortable as well as you. A lot of thought had been put into this unit; it'll be interesting to see what they use it for once the team moves into the new cancer centre being built.
It takes a few goes to get used to walking with a drip stand - if you've spent any time in a hospital you'll know all about it. It amuses me to guess how many times people have been here when I see them dancing around it on the way to the loo. If you're here between 12-1pm or after five, the sandwich lady comes around with a small selection, plus teas, coffees and cold drinks. It's basic, but they don't have to and I think it's a lovely gesture to even us outpatients. Visitors pay but it's all cheaper than it would be at the AMT coffee or even the Sainsbury's downstairs.
Trolleys of needles, dressing and saline are mostly kept out of direct view, and our bags of infusions are kept in fridges until you're ready for each one. Some of them are mixed in the day and so time-sensitive that you have to have them within a few hours time-slot. I've been sent away once due to an expired drug - a big deal when these bags contain thousands of pounds each! I've heard the toxicity of some chemo is so strong that a 'chemo spill' (broken bag, tube or similar) is a major event and must be reported to the highest names. Goes in my bloodstream fine, but dangerous to the skin? Frightening!
A constant beep beep in the background - always someone's infusion unit going off, telling the nurses is time to switch bags or something not working. You do tune it out eventually but it drove me nuts the first few times. Hushed conversation - sometimes you're in a friendly corner (the unit is broken into four patient sections, so you gave inward to each other from four corners of a fifteen foot square space) and get chatting, especially if there's more than one of you alone. Often I insert myself into conversation if I think I can give some useful input (and I don't think it would be unwelcome, obviously!) - having had so much experience and such a common cancer fares well on days like that. Today the two ladies also being treated are snoozing in their comfy chairs and the daughter of one is staring at a magazine barely flicking the pages - either she's angry or nervous, I can't tell which.
I think that's a pretty good overall description. I can't really pick an age today, I guess I'm 64 again because of coping so badly in the heart, even if it is quite a pleasure being in here with a fan and the car earlier. I'm going to try getting the train home, we'll see what things are like at London Bridge when I'm ready to leave before I make a decision. Why there are such problems caused by the hot weather is beyond me - hotter places manage to have trains don't they?!
P. S. - the red bag is to keep sunlight off the drugs - the smallest things can effect potency I'm told!
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