Yesterday I had my usual visit to Masonic Cancer Center at the University of Minnesota - but it was a little different this time. To begin with there was no valet parking. It's not a splurge to valet, it just saves a walk from the ramp a couple of blocks away – and is no more expensive than regular parking. The other change was there were no guests allowed, just patients there for bloodwork and a chemo infusion.
Walking to the main entrance, there’s only one door in this time - everything else is roped off. Meeting me just inside the door was a nurse. Asking me the usual.
“Do you have a cough?”
“Have you been out of the country?”
“Do you have any swelling?”
“Are you short of breath?”
“Do you have any skin problems?
“Got any weed?”
I then follow the roped walkway past the cop, who points me at the next table just 20 feet away.
That's where the next table of nurses ask me to disinfect my hands. Then ask me,
“Do you have a cough?”
“Have you been out of the country?”
“Do you have any swelling?”
“Are you short of breath?”
“Do you have any skin problems?
“What’s the frequency, Kenneth?”
They then ask me if I know where I’m going. Because I've been down this path before, I say yes, and head down the cordoned off path to the elevator to the second floor for my blood tests. Outside the elevator on 2, the check-in tables are set up as usual.
And the questions begin again.
The waiting room is usually pretty packed. But half the chairs are wrapped in plastic and stacked on a 20 to 30 foot seating bench - which is also wrapped in plastic. Ringing the room are chairs and small tables. All of which appear to be approximately six feet apart from each other. There are maybe ten or fifteen other people waiting for blood tests and the following chemo infusion.
Everyone is masked, except one nurse. The wait was much shorter than usual. One tube of blood is drawn to see if all was in order to be able to get the infusion. It's been up to seven tubes needed when other tests need doing. Back to the waiting room, and about a ten minute wait to be called into the infusion area.
Test results arrived shortly, then the order was put in to the folks in the "cancer cauldron cave" to mix up the potion of Velcade.
That’s when I took out my baggie of 10 steroid pills and various meds that are my usual Friday morning ritual. I waited for the Velcade go-ahead, because the 40 mgs of steroids usually keep me up all night on Friday nights. If I don’t get the infusion, I don’t need the steroids and the sleepless night ahead. So I wait.
The Velcade arrived unusually quickly as well. It’s a fairly small needle with a small amount of chemo, but it comes in a sealed plastic bag large enough to hold 200-300 of them. The nurse puts on her hazmat suit and gloves, opens the bag and takes out the needle. Precautions insist she call in another nurse to ‘check her.’ The other nurse scans my wristband, asking me my name and birthdate, and reads off the code on my bracelet to the other. Nurse Needle then tells Nurse Checker what’s in the concoction. Nurse Checker checks it with what's on her computer screen and then goes goes back to the nurse’s station.
I get the needle, get my coat on, and head for home. While I’m getting myself together, I see why the needle comes in such a big bag. That’s where the disposable (now apparently chemo filled) hazmat suit is placed.
I'm in and out in about 90 minutes, which is much less time than usual. And just like any other amusement ride or wisdom tooth appointment, I was ushered out of the hospital through a different door than I entered.
My Friday night was a little better too. I stayed up until after midnight, and finally felt a little sleepy. OK, I slept from 5 to 6 pm too, dozing on the couch. I hit the sack about 1 am, woke up at 4:30 am for a little while, and dozed off and on until about 6:30 AM. All in all, a pretty uneventful day.
Although a pandemic on the planet has thrown something of a wrench into this new routine, I feel extremely fortunate to not have experienced any noticeable side-effects so far - almost four months into this adventure. I'm not "elderly", but I am in the danger zone for getting sick because my immunities are drastically lowered by the cancer and the treatments. Being glued to CNN and MSNBC for most of the evening doesn't help.
Nancy has been more cautious than I for a longer period of time. But now I'm just terrified of having to be anywhere anyone else is - or ever was - at any time. It's going to be a long spring and summer. I'm glad Nancy is here. And everyone else is just a message or video chat away.
So, text, message, or chat away.
I'll be home. (Like the rest of you I hope!)
❤️❤️❤️❤️
Posted by: Carrie | 03/21/2020 at 03:54 PM
I pray for you, Dan and think of you often. I’m still missing our Staci girl and hope to see you guys one of these days. I always appreciate the updates.
Posted by: Cindy Bohm | 03/21/2020 at 06:13 PM
Thanks Cin! I miss our girl too. And think of her at the strangest times.
Posted by: Dan | 03/21/2020 at 06:53 PM
Dan. Thank you for sharing your day. I’m so sorry you are going though this and so happy you have Nancy. Those of us that have a lover or close friend or family with us in our homes right now are fortunate. For me it’s a good friend and his daughter. My own daughter is walking distance but my grandson was exposed to a Coronavirus positive person at school so her home isn’t safe for me. I was able to see them yesterday on a walk in our neighborhood with the babies strapped into their double stroller 6 feet away. Bittersweet. It is scary for me too and I’m guessing most of us to be out and around other humans right now. And we are seeing what’s “behind the mask” of so many who aren’t willing to sacrifice personally for the good of all either out of selfishness or stupidity and so the feeling of being “unsure” and “unsafe” weighs heavy. Love to you and Nancy! Keep telling your story!
Posted by: Deborah hopping | 03/22/2020 at 06:21 AM
Oh Dan, you sweet lovely man. That you'd be going through this is beyond belief. Thank God you have your wonderful Nancy. I think of you two often. When this craziness ends I would love to see you both ❤️. In the meantime, I am reading your blogs and sending good thoughts.
Posted by: Beth | 03/22/2020 at 09:18 AM
A BIG thank you to everyone for your very special words of love, prayers and good thoughts.
Especially now, they mean so much to both of us.
In the midst of all this craziness, its comforting to have the love and support of friends and family.
I hope you are all doing well and staying safe and healthy.
xoxox
Nancy
Posted by: Nancy J Mitchell | 03/23/2020 at 10:00 AM