I had my hematologist appointment today. It was one of those appointments where I felt better going in then I did going out. Apparently some of my blood levels were so low they couldn't be read accurately. They gave me iron by I.V. today. First they gave me a massive amount of benadryl to prevent any allergic reactions and some Tylenol to prevent fever. I have to go back once a week for the next few weeks and get another 'treatment' as they call it. By then they'll be able to tell if it's working or not. If it is working, good. The treatments will slow down to a maintenance amount. If they don't work they will go on to other things. Picture a large room filled with reclining chairs like you would find in any living room. Next to each chair was a metal table covered with a pink cloth. Placed upon the table were tissues, surgical gloves and other implements of the trade. Seated in each chair was a person hooked up to an I.V. that dripped calcium, chemo, saline solution and other wonder drugs into their bodies. The I.V.'s acted as little sentinels that beeped, booped, hummed and softly whispered to themselves. I sat in my chair and the nurse hooked me up. My arm was carefully propped on a pillow and it was explained to me that I mustn't move it for the next couple of hours. I settled back and looked about the room. Soothing art work painted in earth tones hung on the walls. The sky lights gave us a glimpse of the bright, blue, frigid, winter sky. I liked the olympic sized fish tank with the cranky black and white striped fish that delighted in chasing and bullying the other fish. I tried reading a Reader's Digest and concentrated on not feeling scared. Willing the stuff flowing into my veins to work and make my body do its job. I looked at the other people in the room while trying to seem as if I wasn't looking. A skill I have never quite perfected. I watched one woman all the way across the room from me, she was very over weight and bloated, not sure if it was from her medications or from conciliatory twinkies. Either way, it doesn't matter. She looked so sad and defeated. She was settled into her chair filling it with her body but she wasn't there. Every now and again she would open her eyes and look around and then snap them shut again. When her eyes closed her face relaxed and I could tell she was travelling. I wondered where she took herself on her mental journeys. It amazed me how so many of the people were taking things in stride. Just sitting there reading their books, talking, munching on crackers and drinking juice all the while hooked up to medical cocktails that will either kill you or cure you. The staff at the center was fantastic. I couldn't ask for better. They greeted me by name the minute I entered the room. They knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing and they were able to explain everything to me step by step. I felt confident in my care givers which helped me immensely. At one point I could feel the iron hitting me and I became a little anxious and a nurse was there before I could even formulate the thought that there might be something wrong. I am feeling a bit woozy again and sleepy. Main-lining Benadryl is some hard core stuff, I'm telling you. Isn't woozy a wonderful word? It rhymes with some great words, too. Boozey, doozy, floozy, toozy. Okay, I know, toozy isn't a word, but it should be. Sleep well, my dears, and have wonderful dreams. I'll be back tomorrow.