The day started out on a good note. More chemo! Only someone didn't schedule it properly and the appointments are a week too early. Our appointment next week will be across the bay instead of nearby. So mrguy got hydration instead. And this was great, all in all. Plus the doctor said we'd "hit the lottery" with mrguy's biomarkers allowing us to have targed and immunotherapies along with chemo.
Yay! And we're done with out-of-the-house cancer appointments until next week.
The phone rang at 7pm. It was the oncologist. He wants us to go to the ER. Across the bay. Mrguy's got some elevated heart enzymes that he wants to have checked out. He thinks mrguy (who feels fine) has had a heart attack. We get in the car and drive an hour to the hospital.
I have a meltdown trying to park. I literally am crying trying to figure out the parking. The valet walks me to a parking space as I drive behind her. This sucks.
Turns out that our oncologist wants to check out mrguy for heart stuff. The Herceptin is hard on hearts, and that's one of the miracle drugs. And his circulatory system is all out of whack with blood clots. He's getting admitted. There aren't beds yet. Sound familiar?
It's super cold in the room. I got us more blankets, because it seems like we are going to be here for a while in the ER. There aren't any beds right now. The nurse, Maggie (real name) insists that beds can come available at any time. Bed Management will contact her when one is ready.
I tried sleeping on the floor but it was too cold. That was before I took my life in my own hands by using the all gender toilet, and its shit-flecked commode. And braved Maggie and her stern disapproval of my suggest-asking about bed availability before sunrise.
It is, in the words of a hearse-driving guy who used to repair espresso machines with mrguy, another damned day.
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