13 January, 2020 – admissions day

After a broken night’s sleep, I heaved my carcass out of bed a little past 5:30am and began the final preparations for heading to the hospital. Lauren had given me one of her little teddy bears to take along with me and he was given a place of honor at the top of my duffle bag. Rory and I drove the girls to school and I hugged them goodbye quickly as they got out of the car. I felt as though I were saying goodbye, not just to my daughters, but to my entire life. I was staring into the yawning abyss of the Unknown.

A little under two hours later, I was checked into my room at Methodist Hospital San Antonio. Not much to say about the room, other than it’s on the eighth floor and clean. The view isn’t the greatest though – I’m staring out into what looks like a central atrium surrounded by sand-colored brick and stucco walls. Things might improve once the sun comes out but for now it’s a bit gloomy.

I now have my PICC line installed. It’s an IV line with two ports that feed into a slender tube that travels up one of the larger veins in my upper right arm and terminates just above my heart. Weird. This will work in my favor in the long run though, because now blood can be drawn through the PICC line and medication and IV fluids can be administered through the same line. Ergo, no more human pincushion!

Rory bought me a new iPad today so I can type and text more easily. It will help to alleviate the crushing boredom as I wait out my treatment here in the hospital. There are other things, too, that can occupy my time. My case nurse told me about various chemo, art and music therapy groups here on the eighth floor of the hospital that sound promising. My new oncologist, Dr. Santiago, also wants me out on the floor and walking, walking, walking. Not quite sure how I’m going to accomplish that while dragging along a heavy IV stand but I intend to figure it out tomorrow.