A little dab’ll do ya!

Infusion confusion

Pokes, beeps, saline, O2 saturation, and the humming of the IV drip while the blood pressure cuff measures blood pressure for the duration of the infusion. Entering the infusion center is a mix bag of emotion and encounters of conversations that are mainly redundant. Anyone who has a medical condition and has gone through a myriad of diagnosis let alone medications and treatments understand the confusion and frustrations that go with whatever illness they are fighting.

Observing through the eyes of the caregiver I am amazed at the conversations I hear between my husband and the medical teams, “how are you feeling?”. My internal response slides through my mind as fast as it is asked, “ how do you think he feels, he looks like shit, sounds like shit, moves like shit and is here putting somesort of drug that is made from mice something or another in his veins to hopefully help him into remission for a disease that has no cure?”. But my husband who does not have the patience of Job or anyone else always responds, “fine, how about you?”. The conversation always goes to, “so do you think your feeling better, or how is the drug working for you, we are here to help”. His responses are usually the same; “ not sure, I’m on so many other drugs too, I think it’s helping, thank you.”. My favorite conversations is listening to the nurses give their opinions of what helped someone else or their own prognosis — and the ultimate “oooh, I’m Sorry to hear you have this.”, the dreaded pitiful mercy call — -you know the deadman walking sound in the tone of their voice.

Let’s not forget the looks the pitiful wife gets as she walks in with her sickly husband (who actually just looks like many middle age men at this stage of life; puffy, overweight, slow, winded, and tired). You can hear their minds chatter “oh she’s too young to loose a husband, well no wonder he is sick — she is feeding him too much (by the way I don’t cook), what will she do with that poor man….”. My internal response is “seriously…get a life people.”.

Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for all the help, and at least they are talking to my husband, which is always better than what most family and friends do. There are no correct words or best scenarios when helping someone who has a medical condition with no cure. I’m amazed, inspired and strengthened from my other half who chooses to live as a person with a disease not a diseased person.

“Have you ever had any of the following, confusion, dizziness, rash, hives, fever, convulsions….”, is a standard question before beginning the infusions. My mind races quickly with response “well hell yes, he loves them, that is why we keep coming back!”. But again my husbands response is a calm “no”. So they continue to pick up speed on the pump and the IV flows to a quick rhythm and hum as the juice pumps through his veins.

Prior to the very end of the four hour drip, they always let us know they will squeeze out the very last drop…. Because it’s soooo expensive and it might be that little last drop that does the trick — perhaps that “little dab’ll do ya!”.