Yesterday, Jen and I jumped in the car and drove all the way into Baltimore and parked in the garage and walked to the Radiology department and checked in and sat in the chairs and waited only to have someone come out and tell us the machine broke. So we got a new appointment for 2PM today where we’ll do the whole thing over again and pray that something actually happens. I was pretty quiet for most the day yesterday but even quieter after we got home, because I’m waiting for something to fucking happen.
Yesterday’s Today’s appointment is to get all set up for the first treatment, but they’re not actually going to shoot me with anything–that happens today tomorrow. At a time that we don’t know yet because they can’t schedule us until we’re in the room, or something.
It’s been three weeks since the initial diagnosis, and I’m getting pretty impatient. The radiology folks have been absolutely stellar in getting back to us, talking to us, facilitating treatment, and generally keeping us sane. I’m supposed to have chemotherapy with the radiation; we haven’t heard a peep from the chemo doctor yet, and I HAVE QUESTIONS. Nobody is shooting me up with anything until I know what the fuck is going on (if some rando shows up on Wednesday with a needle and a smile, I’m going to slap that shit out of their hand and have a nice long chat in my Dad-talking-to-Finley voice) and what I’m supposed to expect. Are they putting in a port? What can I eat? What can I drink? Will my hair fall out? Will it knock me flat or do I have any expectation of having half of a normal life? Do I qualify for medical marijuana? Because if I can spend at least a little bit of the Trump Presidency doing legal bong hits with a hole in my chest, I’M GAME. It’s all about the silver linings here.
I spent most of the rest of yesterday trying to stay out of an angry funk, which was not easy. We walked over to the school to pick Finn up and stood out in the field talking to other parents while she played. She and I picked up Goblet of Fire and started reading it again (we got stalled when she got scared) after dinner, which was great. And some friends brought over a big bag of cookies, which was very appreciated. (I ate more than a few last night after putting Finn to bed). Because if I can’t smoke dope, I’ma eat the shit out of some cookies.