One Year Anniversary of my Diagnosis…

It was a year ago June 3’rd that I got the news that no one wants to hear, Cancer.

I honestly didn’t know how I would feel on that day. My husband and I jokingly call it our DDAy, short for Diagnosis Day. So I kept busy, lots of chores and threw down some new healthy recipes. Glazed Pork Loin, and Low Cholesterol Crock Pot Scalloped Potatoes. All a success by the way. My husband got home, and it was an awesome night! Instead of wallowing  in how much that day sucked, we celebrated that it was a year ago. We also celebrated that we got Radar on the same day (Please see previous posts).

Now, this is where it may be a bit TMI, so this is your warning. There was beer, good food, talk and tequila. Then a mighty fine romp in the hay. At 1:00 in the morning we decided that this is how we’re celebrating this day every year! So how was my mood on this day? F’n awesome!

This will be my final Cancer blog for a while, until treatment ends and I finally get this god forsaken port out of my body.

I’m looking forward to blogging about something else, anything else!

Moore Livin…

I’m an absolute horrible blogger. I only write when the mood hits me and I seldom read other posts. Sorry for that.

I’m sitting in a cold hotel room in San Antonio (I have found that since my cancer treatments I am cold all the time. My husband runs hot, so I’m curled up in the awesome hotel robe)

We’re in San Antonio for a work trip. Hubby works, I chill. Our first of two nights, and while there was some “cancer talk”, I enjoyed being the “arm candy” during dinner and drinks. Now before you get all bent out of shape, let me explain. I use the term “arm candy” as the wife a vendor can talk to, while trying to talk shop. Come on, an evening out can’t be all shop talk, and vendors commonly look at the spouse to talk about other things. “So Liz, what do you do?” I used to dread it. I’m so afraid of embarrassing my husband because I’m quite rough around the edges.  But tonight it was actually refreshing. When the talk turned to owning a camper or RV, well that’s right up my ally. And the real reason for this post.

My husband and I have always talked about buying an RV\ Camper once we retire. After the past year, we were talking one night in January and both said “when we retire? why wait?” So we didn’t. We bought a small travel trailer 22ft , and have used it every month. We gotta call from a friend in the Valley “can you make it for a  Bday party?” Our reply “If you have room for a small camper in your drive way, hell yes!”.

We have at least one trip per month planned thru November, just cause! It may sound depressing to some, but a mantra from Shawshank Redemption runs thru my head “Start living, or start dying”  We even put custom letters on it. Moore Livin!

Radiation Therapy, Been There Done That

I’m writing this, while sitting in our new 22ft. camper. We’re all setup at Casa Blanca International/State Park in Laredo TX. How we got here is another tale for another day.

Haven’t blogged in a while. Once my daily radiation therapy ended, I didn’t much feel like it to be honest with you. But the other night I was watching Grey’s Anatomy. One of the characters is going thru therapy for a cancerous brain tumor. She portrayed the vulnerability one feels so well, all the emotions I felt over the last few months came flooding back. I even found myself crying. So here goes my radiation therapy story.

The first thing my Radiation Oncologist tells me is there are much fewer side effects during radiation then there is with chemo. Something I was glad to hear. Then he goes on to explain what side effects there are and all the steps associated with the setup process and daily treatments. As with most things on my cancer journey, the explanation did little to prepare me for the actuality of radiation therapy.

First up, a total body scan so they can calculate where the radiation is best targeted. A magnetic strip is placed across my incision scar and under my upper body a form is made with my arms up over my head. These 2 things ensure that they can properly calculate where the tumor was and that I’m in the exact same position for each treatment. Once all of this done, and the Radiation Oncologist is satisfied with my alignment and position, 3 small dots are tattooed on me to help with future alignment. The setup is now complete. It takes the Radiation Oncologist a few days to do whatever calculations he does. Once all this is done, we start the daily treatments. I walk out to the waiting area where Lee is waiting for me, of course. While it didn’t make much sense for him to be at my daily radiation treatments, he made dam sure he was there for the setup.

As with all my treatments, my drive is a 2 hour round trip from Bishop to Corpus. I had several people offer to drive me, but I just wanted to go alone. This way I could listen to whatever music I wanted and not feel the need to entertain anyone. Not that they would expect me to, I would just feel obligated to take them to lunch or something. And I didn’t want to make this thing some sort of event. I just wanted to go and get it over with.

I feel the need at this point to tell you how incredible the doctor, therapists, techs and staff were. From the first daily treatment everyone was kind, thoughtful, and supportive and even remembered my name. So here we go!

I walk in for my first of 33 daily radiation treatments. I’m directed to the dressing rooms where I don yet another hospital gown. (They are always ginormous on me and I end up wrapping them around myself.) I’m led into the treatment room and I am a bit taken a back. The radiation machine is nothing like the ct scan. It’s huge with a table right in front of it. My body form is in place on the table and I can see a monitor with my name at the top and all sorts of instructions for my therapy, all which looked like a different language. I lay down and am moved around until the tattooed dots on my body line up with lasers coming from the ceiling and 2 walls. Then the tech asks “What type of music do you like?” To which I answer “You probably don’t have what I like, so how about some classic rock?” Tech “Try me, I might surprise you.” Me “I’m a bit of a metal head.” Tech “I’ve gotta play list you’ll like and I’ll work on a new one for you this afternoon.” She starts the music, walks up to me on the table and says “Here wo go.” I reply “Let’s do this.” (An exchange we will repeat every single treatment) As she walks out of the room, the big metal doors close behind her and I’m left completely alone with Dr Feelgood by Motly Crue playing loudly.

Now the fun begins. The radiation machine cranks up and these plates start to move towards me. I’ve been instructed to stay completely still and stare at the ceiling, and that is just what I do. Laying there half naked staring straight up, during all of this, is the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt. I kept thinking “Why hasn’t this ever been portrayed?” I kept imagining a single shot filmed from the ceiling vantage point, as all the plate things spin around me. Then they stop and the actual treatment begins. Clicks and sounds that reminded me of Robby the Robot in Forbidden Planet. Each plate makes a different sound and then it’s over. The treatment itself only lasts 15 minutes and then you’re done. I put my clothes back on and I’m off, unless it’s my day to visit the Radiation Oncologist where more people look at my hooter and ask how I’m doing.

This is now my daily process. Take Lee to work, back home to take care of all the pets, try to get a few things done around the house then head to Corpus. It didn’t take long for the skin on said hooter to change color. It looked like a really odd tan. A few weeks into the process I got out of the shower and noticed my skin was peeling off, leaving bright pink and painful new skin. I can tell you this. When they told me there would be “some pealing” I was not prepared for the entire area to peel and be painful. I was assured that it was completely normal, given some cream and told to skip wearing a bra till the new skin felt better. This took about a week.

While all of this did become somewhat routine, one thing never changed. The feeling of vulnerability when left alone in the treatment room for those 15 minutes. I got pretty good at memorizing the treatment process. Noting each plate’s position and the noises they made. I could always tell when the treatment was almost over.

In the waiting area, outside the radiation room, there is a bell you ring after your final treatment. I read the poem, written on it, every single treatment. Finally, it was my turn to ring the bell! My last treatment day was here! As this last treatment ended I asked the tech “You’re gonna let me change clothes before I ring the bell, right?” His reply “Oh no, gotta keep the gown on.” As I walk down the ramp of the treatment room and the automatic doors open I hear applause. The entire staff and Radiation Oncologist are there clapping and cheering me on. I ring the bell, read the poem out loud and tear up a bit. We take pics, exchange pleasantries and hugs and I thank them all. I end it all by saying “I hope I don’t offend you here. You all have been so awesome during this process, but I seriously hope I never have to see any of you again.” They all laughed. I got the feeling it’s not the first time they’ve been told that.

On my drive home I got a notification on my phone from PayPal. My best friend since 8th grade had deposited money in our account to buy a celebratory round. So we hit our local hang out. Had a couple of beers and shots of Patron. A perfect ending.

Has it Really Been 6 Months?

I was diagnosed with breast cancer on June 6th of this year. I really had no idea it had been six months until this week. Something about counting down to the holidays maybe, but the time has flown by. I mean it all becomes this apt and that. But there are mile stones too, the biggest being Chemo being over!!! Out of 6 Chemo treatments, the last 2 kicked my ass! What started with a few days of recovery time, turned into an entire week. It got so bad at some point that my husband called the 24 hour hotline saying “look, my wife needs help”. Well, we made it past all that. We even managed to make it to our annual trip to Renfest (The biggest Renaissance festival in Tx) , where my husband and I met. We camp the entire weekend with an awesome group of friends, numbering about 40. For that weekend it wasn’t about cancer or treatments, it was just good times with good friends. Even jokes about how much my husband and I look a like now. You see, he’s bald… And it was awesome!

Anyways. 6 months. I’m now at the beginning of Radiation Therapy and new daily meds. Daily radiation therapy deserves its own blog, but I’ll tell ya this… Another new odd experience for me…

Dam it, I keep getting side tracked. During chemo my husband and I made a very simple decision. Life is too short, way too short. One Saturday morning we were watching TV. You see I love this one Saturday morning TV show that is really meant for kids. It’s called the Wild Life Docs. It follows the vets at Busch Gardens while they take care of a myriad of animals. One Saturday I said “I really wanna go there one day.”. My husband simply replied “To hell with one day!” And so he began planning our trip over Thanksgiving week. And it was awesome! No doctor’s apt’s, no treatments. just us!

Not only did we see animals and feed giraffes, but we saw one of the vets from the Wild Life Docs that started the convo. Dr Pete! He was giving anesthesia to a duck. Really! It was truly an awesome time!

But back to the 6 month mark. Chemo is done, radiation therapy, Herceptin infusions every 3 weeks and a new daily drug has started. While most of my friends think the fight is over, it’s not. I still have 7 months of treatment left, but with fewer side effects. I find myself a little down at this point, well today anyways. The daily drive to Corpus for radiation is a bit of a downer. A daily reminder that I’m still a cancer patient. I had my first post diagnosis mammo which was clear, but another reminder that The Big C will be hanging over our heads for a while. My doctors tell me for 5 years. That’s a lot to take in. So I decided to design our photo Christmas cards for 2014, and I am dam glad I did.

While designing our photo cards, I looked thru all of our pics from 2014, and I realized 2014 didn’t totally suck. We actually had some really good times, before and after the dreaded diagnosis. And we have both vowed to make some changes. To take advantage of now, cause ya just don’t know….

The Breast Cancer Treatment Rollercoaster – Chemo Therapy

It’s the 5th day, after what was 4 of 6 chemo treatments (Usually a day spent on the couch, after 2 days of nausea meds and 2 days curled up with the worst stomach cramps I’ve ever experienced.) I’m generally week, exhausted and my entire body aches, but I know the worst for the session has past. Over the last couple of months I have noticed that my emotions and feelings are absolutely all over the place. And I never know how I’m going to feel from day to day.

This emotional rollercoaster first became obvious to me at a HH, after 3 of 6 chemo treatments. My husband and I were at our local hangout with friends and co workers. People we’ve been hanging out with at least once a week for years. So I get the initial how ya doing and hugs, and of course I reply with my typical “I’m good!”. Then the beer, drinks and BS started flying as usual, but not quite.  Talk of news, football, projects we are working on, shop talk and other topics. But on this evening I noticed after the first pleasantries, I was out of the convo for the most part.  And I completely understood why. The world moves on. But until my treatments are over, my world revolves around cancer treatments. It was at this time I heard this voice in my head “What’s going on with you Liz? Chemo? Wow, that must really suck.” And thus began my brief slip into depression.

While it didn’t last long, it was still there. And all I did was become very quiet for the most part, with that sentence constantly running thru my head. To be joined later by “You don’t have anything to add to a conversation, all you have is chemo.” Chemo Therapy can be a very lonely path. Don’t get me wrong. I could make any number of calls and my friends and family would be here in a second if I asked. But there’s the rub. There is nothing anyone can do to help me thru it. It’s a very lonely road. After a few days, I knew I needed to snap out of it. That I didn’t need to spend much more time on this path, so I reached out to my husband. The best part of our convo was that it validated everything I felt. I wasn’t wrong to feel this way, I just needed to find my way out. And we agreed that me being honest with him was the best step forward in this.

That brings us to treatment 4 of 6 this week. Prepping the week of treatment  was “I’m tired of this shit” week. The day of treatment was “Only 2 more treatments after today.” This week is “I can’t believe I have 2 more fucking treatments to go thru!” I suppose it’s all relative.

Being the “Cancer Chick”

Since this journey started over 2 months ago, I have said several times that I just don’t want to end up being the “Cancer Chick”. As I sit here today, a week after my second round of chemo, I realize how unrealistic that thought was.

Sure, there are the physical changes as a result of surgeries and chemo therapy treatments. Some of these scream “Cancer Chick”, mostly the bald head, but that’s not the half of it. Our lives have been forever altered in the short term and long term. In the short term, our daily lives now revolve around blood tests, doctor appt’s, chemo treatment appt’s and recovery time. We began making travel plans for fall camping trips, friend get togethers and the holidays last week. We had to have a calendar handy so we could count off the 3 week chemo schedule. We’ve been invited to a Labor Day\Bday Pool party next weekend, but I need to get approval from my surgeon before getting into a pool. On the long term there will be 5 years of worries and diagnostic mammograms every 6 months. The longer term, think we’ll always be worried that the cancer will come back.

Since we live in Bishop TX, and have to drive to Corpus Christi for most of my appt’s, we realized something. If we can get up for all this shit, we should make time for fun. So we have made it a point to do just that.

I have said since first moving here that I wanted to go see a turtle hatchling release. Kemp Ridley Sea turtles are endangered and there are several releases of hatchlings in Port Aransas thru out the summer. They usually take place at 6 am, which means we have to leave Bishop by 4:30, so we just never did it. Until this summer, and it was awesome! Saw the sun come up and some baby turtles fight to survive. What’s not to love there? I’ve been driving by the Botanical Gardens in Corpus the entire time I’ve lived here. Always thinking, I should really stop and check that out. So one Saturday we did. We’ve gotten up early on a couple of Sundays just to go fishing on a couple of local piers. Didn’t catch any fish, but had a blast.

Since she’s part of our lives now, I hate the “Cancer Chick” less these days. I even thank her a little, but I can’t wait for her hair to grow back.

The Medical Miracle That is Lidocaine and Prilocaine Cream…

Second round of chemo last Wednesday. As I stated earlier, since my mediport surgery was only a couple days old, I was unable to use the numbing cream during session 1. Chemo session 2 was a totally different deal. Now I must tell you, I didn’t really believe that It would lessen the pain that much. But figured even a little is better then nothing. After my first session, the nurse gave us special instructions. “Don’t rub it in. Put a big blob covering the entire port, then cover with plastic wrap.” And that’s exactly what my awesome hubby did. So we enter the chemo casa, carting all our crap, and we take what are now our regular seats. I get a different nurse and give her all my warnings about what a wuss I am. So we get me cleaned up and all set. I grab hubby’s hand and take a deep breathe. I hear “OK” and I reply “You’re already in?” Nurse “Yup, you’re good to go”. Me “I didn’t feel a thing!” At that moment the nurse that had the misfortune of giving me my first treatments walks over. “Hey, that’s not fair. I made her cry last time!’. My reply “You remember me? It wasn’t you, it was the fact that I couldn’t use the numbing cream.” Her reply to me “Of course I remember you, I felt so bad for you!” The nurse that was dealing with me told the first nurse “Her husband did it perfectly. It was just what we like to see, lots of cream covering the entire port. Took me a while to clean it all off, hell we can always get her more as needed!”

As I was warned, this session hit me a little harder then the first. We are now adding treatments on top of treatments. I only needed the anti nausea meds for 2 days after the first session. I’m on day 3 now, and just popped another pill. Hoping today will be it for that, then we wait for the other fun symptoms. Most of my hair is now gone, but hubby tells me I have a cool looking head and rock the scarf look. He even added that he thinks I look quite sexy sporting my scarfs. Even if it’s not the truth, it’s nice to hear. I find that when I go out, making sure I wear a little makeup (in an effort to keep my eye lashes and brows I don’t use anything on them), jewelry and long scarfs really help me with my own self image. More girly and less chemo’sh.

I stood in front of the mirror…

Well, I start my second round of chemo tomorrow. As I sit hear, I can honestly tell you this. There is no amount of preparing you can do for the effects of chemo. I feel the need to say again that chemo effects everyone differently, and this is just my story.

You worry about nausea, but that’s the least of it. With the new drugs, I really only dealt with that for a couple of days. A total week later was the stomach tumble. It switches from diarrhea to constipation, and quickly. I’m not even sure I would categorize the symptoms by those medical terms. My body just doesn’t know what to do. Hang onto food, then wanna let it go. And there’s the shot I get the day after chemo to make my bones create more white blood cells, that the chemo will kill. That means added flue like symptoms, and achy bones. My sense of smell is now on steroids and my taste buds are off. Beer and Coffee are no bueno. Oh the insanity of it!!!

Then I got the visual, which are harder to deal with for me. First, odd dry red patches on my face.. A week in I noticed I had no hair on my arms. I was like, when did that happen? Cut my hair short, leaving a rat tail for grins, and seemed like it was gonna hang in there. Nope. Un braided my tail last week, and half of it fell off in my hands.(I wish I could explain having your hands full of your own hair, but I can’t) Told my husband “time to buzz cut me”. So we did. We laughed and I cried. That brings me to this week.

I decided the best look for me would be x large scarfs, and I was right. My BFF even paid way too much for a silk scarf that has “Fuck Cancer” written all over it! Honestly, you just hope you’re not gonna need it, and then you do. Once we took the clippers to my head, leaving 1/2 of hair, my hair started seriously falling out. Like I need a scarf just to make sure I don’t leave a trail of hair everywhere I go! By the way, the Fuck Cancer scarf is quite the hit.

So I stood in front of the mirror today. Looked at my missing nipple and the incision that replaced it. The visible outline of my medi port on my chest, my balding head and red patches on my face. And what did I do? I cried a little, then flipped the mirror off.

Rambling “Week 1 of the chemo club”

I apologize if I ramble here. Let me tell ya, 6 days into the “chemo club” and me no likie! As always, my expectations were totally unrealistic. The belief that I’m stronger then anything, again, not very realistic. Yes my friends, I seriously thought “Mediport surgery, check. Chemo 2 days later, check. It’ll only take me a couple days to get back to normal after that. So I’ll be normal for weeks before the next chemo round starts. Right?” WRONG!!

I should probably say here that chemo treats everyone quite differently. Each individual chemo cocktail is based on the cancer they are attacking and the individual. So this is just my experience. I just turned 50 and am quite healthy, as I’m constantly reminded of. I am constantly hungry, but can’t eat much. So I spend a huge amount of time grazing. Half bowl of cereal in the morning, hour later a few peanuts, half a granola bar (maybe even a Hershey mini, kept in the frig of course). Lunch starts at 11 with a few bites of cold chicken breast, a salad an hour after that. Crackers, an orange or whatever I hope will taste normal (by the way, few things taste normal to me at this point.) Now let me tell you, if there are leftover mashed taters in the frig (and we now try to make sure there is at all times) I hit that shit early! Its like chemo crack! Easy to heat up, eat, digest and very filling. But we also know protein is important for my body, while its so weak. Carving board ham or turkey is great for this! Open the package and grab a bite as needed. I didn’t want to use the tired statement of “The new normal”, but it has never been more fitting. Day of chemo treatment they give me anti nausea meds in my chemo cocktail, so I’m good for the day. For 2 days after that I pop what’s called “emergency anti nausea meds” as needed of course. After that, I’d rather find my own way of dealing. So far, in week one, I think I have. Don’t forget your hydration! Lots of water, iced tea, 7up and yes ginger ale…

As for how I feel, annoyed mostly. Annoyed at how easily winded I get. But mostly I’m achie. My stomach, bowls and lady parts are all out of whack. And for a woman that never gets headaches, I get fleeting ones constantly (I let them pass, I really don’t need to pop more meds). I get an injection the day after chemo that makes my bones produce extra white blood cells. My bone marrow (around my back and hips mostly) are working overtime. This added extra flu like symptoms to the mix… 2 days after my first chemo treatment I noticed that there is no hair on my arms. 2 days later I started to shave my legs, no need (score!). Today I noticed my hair thinning. Hairs on my pillow and bath towel. And while I’m keying this, hairs on the tablet.

I am well aware at how whiny this blog entry may sound, but that’s not my intent. Just sharing the journey I find myself on. Today ended with lots of luv and one hilarious convo about this year’s Christmas card. We do a photo holiday card of us and our 4 legged children. “I have a great idea for our Christmas card this year love. But if our pic is gonna be me with hair, we gots a small window to work with”

My First Chemo Treatment. And The Moore Gypsies Made Their Grand Entrance.

Well, I have to start this by apologizing in advance. This has the potential of being a rambling post. For that I’m sorry, or maybe not. We’ll see. I should start with the mediport surgery, that was Monday 7-21-14. I should probably also mention that my birthday was 7-22. Yup, I turned 50 the day after my surgery. They warned me that my concoction of drugs, during chemo, might make me a little hyper, and they were totally right! I said to the nurse “But I’m always hyper”. My husband added “I don’t think my wife can be more hyper”. To which the nurse replied “She can and will.” And again, she was right. Back to my mediport surgery…

It’s always a hurry and wait thing, I’m sure I’m supposed to just get used to it. But honestly it’s fucking annoying. I get to answer the same questions and hear the same comments about how healthy I am, except for the cancer of course. Ok, put me in the crappy gown, put an IV and let’s go dam it! My surgeon shows up and explains the 3 options for the mediport. 3 vains to tap, he’ll go for the easiest first and hope for the best. He just doesn’t know till he gets in there. “OK dude, lets just do this already”. So…. I wake up after surgery, and both my docs are there, surprised at how quickly I was awake and lucid… Because again, I’m a very healthy cancer patient. “So, Option 1? Please tell me it was option 1!” Surgeon replied “Yes Elizabeth, option 1. I was able to tap into the vein that goes into your arm, instead of a major artery.” Score!

I’m not gonna whine about my Birthday. I laid on the couch, worked on a massive cross stitch and my hubby brought me flowers. He cooked my child hood go to Bday meal. Plus, we had a party for me last week. Happy Hour at our local hangout. And it was awesome! Anyway, let’s get to my first chemo session.

We got to the Oncologist office early, as instructed. Like I said, hurry up and wait. On my first chemo session I meet with the Oncologist first. He goes over all of my test results, which I already know are normal. Tries to gently convince me to enter the drug trial, which I turned down again. And then back to the waiting room. We wait for a bit more, and then they call me into the “chemo room”. Now I didn’t know what to expect. Cubicles maybe? Nope. An open room with 25 recliners. Bunch of cancer patients plugged into their own personal chemo cocktail. The nurse says “pick a chair”. I look at my husband and have no idea where to go, I could tell by his look that he didn’t know either. So we decide on the recliner in the middle of the room. It had the most room around it for all the crap we had brought (I’ll get to that in a few), so we sit. Nurse follows us and explains what’s fixing to happen. She leaves and comes back with a few pouches. Saline, Benadryl, Anti Nausea and a Steroid to get the party started. Then she starts to prep my Mediport, which is still very sore. Only 2 days old after all. Now here is where the recliner selection may have been a mistake. She gets me ready and says, “I know this is your first session, are you ok?” I reply “Yup, let’s do this.” “Ok here we go, you’ll feel a little pressure and a stick.” The under statement of the fucking year by the way.

It felt like she punched me in the chest with the needle. And I made what could only be explained as a cross between a mini scream and a guttural grunt. In the middle of the “chemo room”. In front of 15 other patients and I was the only newbie. Then the tape started playing in my head “OMG! OMG! OMG! I’m getting fucking chemo! I’m getting fucking chemo! My husband moves his chair so he’s facing me. Holding my hands and staring into my eyes. Telling me “You’re ok. I’m here. Just look at me, I love you.” He knows a Liz mini meltdown/freakout when he sees one. I start crying and can’t  stop. All the time silently saying every 4 letter word combo I can think of to him. And finally I’m better, and then OK. Then… I suddenly feel so sorry for the awesome nurse, who I realize has been talking to me too. The awake patients are talking to me too, telling me I’m going to do great. I lean back and breathe. We chilled for about 30 minutes after that with our tablets, then my awesome hubby went to the truck to get the rest of our stuff.

We walked in lightly packed. Single tote for me, holding my tablet, all it’s attachments and what would normally be in my purse. Hubby had his laptop bag. Then he went to the truck. We did our homework. The first treatment is a long one, because they do a test treatment to see if anything needs to be changed or altered. Nope, full on chemo cocktail. Hubby walks in with a second tote bag containing my needlework, a soft sided cooler with tea, ice and soft drinks. A robe for me, jacket and pants that can easily be placed over his shorts (It’s cold in the chemo casa) and a bag of snacks. Now our recliner choice makes sense!

The Moore Gypsy clan had arrived! My poor hubby spent 5 hours in a folding chair, right next to my side. I did get him to go sit in the comfy waiting room chairs a couple of times, always short lived. The first of 6 treatments, done! We now refer to it as our “picnic day” and are trying to trim the bags down to a more manageable number. And yes, bring a camping chair for hubby… The Moore Gypsy Clan is gonna own that center recliner in the “chemo casa” bitches!