Tomorrow is another round of chemotherapy. Today was another visit to the oncologist.

After getting my weight and blood taken (as she draws the blood, Zsolt and I count to fifty – though today we only made it to about 22), we visit with the oncologist. Every time I’ve gone, I’ve met a different doctor. Zsolt and I have a theory that the medical community would prefer to avoid emotional attachments. So, if I always have a different nurse/doctor distance is easier to maintain. It’s understandable; in my note taking job we are strongly discouraged from becoming friends with our students . . . something about a student taking things too far once with a note taker. Whatever. My stalking career once consisted of following cute boys around the mall with friends, but that was about 16 years ago. (Holy getting older, Batman)

Anyhow, we met with a lovely young doctor with excellent blond hair. She welcomed us into the room, Zsolt and I took our seats, and then she asked how the last chemo session went.

“Worst weekend ever,” might have been a reply – but I guess there are worse weekends, considering all the possible bad weekends that exist. So instead I said, “no good,” which seems a reasonable response. We explained the vomiting and the nausea and the general weakness.

Good news is that apart from the sickness, my experience was normal. I was wiped out, I recovered: normal. More good news is that she’ll be prescribing me stronger stuff for tomorrow, and if these drugs do their job she’ll be my favourite oncologist ever.

So last session was a learning experience; not just for us, but for the doctors too. Tomorrow will, hopefully, be less of an education.

You know how pets behave around the vet? My old golden retriever (sweetest dog ever) was a big coward whenever she realized where we’d arrived. I think animals can smell the fear. Well thankfully I can’t smell people’s fear, but I do remember my last chemo experience. Unlike my dog, I don’t need to be dragged through the sliding glass doors . . . but like her, I may be shaking – just a little bit.

Tomorrow will be better, one way or another. And then I can forget that initial impression. Time for bed, and tomorrow – time to get on with it!