The Infusion Coliseum...(Chemo Session #1)

We arrived at N5, the infusion center, a few minutes before 9:30 this morning. This chemo session was an experience both adorned by the unexpected and punctuated by the peculiar. Daniela signed in at the main desk as I noticed the giant jellyfish down the hallway. As Daniela and I sat down in the main waiting alcove, we were welcomed by five faces...two chemo neophytes and their supporting casts. There were no awkward silences. There were no curious glances. The room resonated with a radiating rapport...each guest aware of their fluency in the language of shared experience. Two of the three main characters in the chemotherapy multiplex, the other patients, introduced themselves, not with names, but rather by reciting their positions in a chemotherapy timeline. This is my first cycle. Mine too. I'll be here for six cycles... I have eight cycles...three weeks apart. How about you?...they asked Daniela. She obliged and joined the exchange. Not one individual spoke of a diagnosis...nor mentioned the ingredients prescribed to them. I sat in awe as a web of affinity spun itself around the room in mere minutes, gently ensnaring these three strangers. Later on, the group slowly disbanded as nurses ushered the patients to their numbered niches. We spoke with our friends again throughout the morning, gradually infusing each other with greater details from other non-medical experiences...as the other infusions progressed.

Here is the chemotherapy session in a series of images:



To view the images and captions at your own pace, click here.

Almost eleven hours ago, Daniela's vein stopped slurping the toxic nectars. She has been asleep for about two hours. Before going to bed, she reached for one of the vials of anti-nausea medication...the Compazine. After the pill and plenty of water, she groused, "I feel pukey." Dyspeptic dreams... nauseating nightmares... I wonder how her new chemo acquaintances are faring.