086//366

It feels like it’s been months rather than weeks since I last had to get up and get anywhere on time. Today is my infusion appointment. My third out of the first four they call the “loading doses”. Getting out of bed and then getting ready was difficult. I’m just not used to it anymore but at least we were able to leave the house a bit later this morning knowing that there would be minimal traffic on the roads.

I’m hear now and about halfway through the bag of medication. I’m not in the small windowless and cramped room they had previously shoved quick infusion patients like me into. No, I’m back out in the big open room, but it’s not as cheery as usual.

The blinds are drawn and there is no sun or mountain views from my comfy recliner, and the place nearly empty. The nurse working with me explained that most infusions have been cancelled to reduce spread of the virus. Only chemotherapy, inflammatory bowel, and other patience who are relying on this place to keep them at optimal health are allowed in now. I’m ashamed that made me feel important.

I hope by the time I come back at the end of May things will be a little more like normal again and though that means I’ll most likely be back in what my wife calls the “broom closet” for my infusion I need the sun and the people, the smiles and cheer. This place, though by definition is a sad one, has paradoxically always been a source of encouragement to me.

Published by

Lisa Marie Blair

Hello! I'm an aspiring writer fascinated by the human condition. You can find much of my work on my personal blog and at Zen and Pi. I also tweet as @lisamarieblair_ and share pictures and poetry on Instagram. Please consider signing up for my newsletter or supporting what I do by sharing a cup of virtual coffee. Thank you!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.