One down

Eight to go.

It was Rico’s first day of chemo.

I thought I knew about this. I watched my mom get IV drips, helped pick out scarves when the hair fell out. I laid on the couch with her watching the Price is Right when she was too tired to get up. I thought I was prepared.

But now, I’m not so sure. 

Although most chemotherapy is given on an outpatient basis, Rico is staying four days at Mayo for his.

The day started with a picc line, an intravenous line inserted into his upper arm into his heart. This was not part of the initial plan, so it took a bit longer than anticipated to get going. The picc will keep him from being repeatedly poked, and will also help protect his smaller veins from the effects of his most potent chemomdrug - doxorubicin - the red devil. 

I did not make up that nickname myself, it’s how it was described to us by medical professionals. So nobody’s expecting this to be easy.

It’s bright red, comes in a giant syringe and takes two nurses in hazmat suits and three pair of gloves each to deliver it. It’s so potent that they have to keep him here just to monitor his kidney function, his heart, his everything. It didn’t affect him right away, we were able to have dinner together and play a game with Tiny. But by nightfall he was sweaty, nauseous and generally miserable. 

Thanks for the love and prayers. Your notes and posts give him that little something extra he needs to get through his days.