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Kelly Irvin is a multi-published novelist and former newspaper reporter who worked in public relations for more than 20 years. She retired from her day job in 2016 after being diagnosed with primary lateral sclerosis, a degenerative motor neuron disease, and stage 4 ovarian cancer. She spends her days writing and loving her family.
Every treatment bag should include an unlimited supply of humor. Stuff will happen. It’ll be hard, but you may learn to laugh about it later, like I did.
As a woman who’s lived with stage 4 ovarian cancer for the past nine years, I’ve learned a myriad of ways to make my time spent getting treatment in the infusion room easier. In celebration of the new year — and the beginning of my 10th year in treatment — I decided to count down my top 10 infusion room hacks for making life easier when you’re a jittery case of nerves headed to your cancer treatment. Here we go:
10. Ward off cold/hot discomfort by layering comfortable clothes. Like most medical facilities where I’ve been treated, infusion rooms tend to be cold (freezing). I wear a shirt with sleeves that are easy to push up or short sleeves with comfortable pants and bring a sweater or a jacket. Clinics differ so consider taking a blanket to your first visit. My original clinic didn’t provide blankets, although they did offer pillows. My current clinic provides warmed blankets and pillows — so delightful.
9. In tandem with number nine, I wear a short sleeve shirt or one with sleeves that pull up for lab work or placing an IV for intravenous drugs. I once wore a long-sleeve shirt with tighter than usual sleeves that made them hard to push up. I was embarrassed at my novice mistake. Phlebotomists and nurses appreciate having easy access. Same is true for ports. Don’t wear a turtleneck if your drugs will be administered through your port!
8. Take earbuds. If you plan to listen to music, talk on your phone or watch a TV show on your iPad or laptop; use earbuds if at all possible. Don’t put your caller on speaker, please! Don’t inflict your tastes on others. I once listened to most of a soap opera in the infusion room, along with several of my “roomies,” while the person who loaded it on her iPad slept through it. Not cool, my friends.
7. Fend off well-intentioned medical advice from your roomies. Something about having a life-threatening disease turns some “carcinomies” into instant medical experts. I once had another patient stop by my chair to inform me, I shouldn’t be eating a cookie because sugar feeds cancer. She also informed me that I was using the wrong cane. My response was polite, but firm. I get my medical advice from my physicians. I have seven specialists, so I don’t need any more help, thank you very much.
6. Take a hint. If the person next you is reading a book or sleeping — the snoring is a good hint — don’t try to engage him or her in a conversation. I’m an introvert. I prefer to read or sleep, but I have to admit I’ve had some really nice conversations in the infusion room. One lady suggested the clinic should provide some round tables where patients can sit and chat while getting treatment. They could even eat lunch together. I don’t see that happening, in light of the germ factors, but I see her point. Either way, be respectful of those around you.
5. In tandem with number six, if you’re nervous or in need of moral support, by all means, accept offers from friends and/or family members who want to accompany you to your treatments. They can not only distract you from your jitters with conversation, but also take notes during your appointment with the doctor, help you remember the questions you’d like to ask, run out for lunch for you and be expected to tell jokes upon demand. I personally prefer to go alone so I can read, write, sleep and people watch. Which means I have a selfish reason for wanting some folks to have company. I admit it, I eavesdrop and sometimes the conversations are more entertaining than my book.
4. Bring snacks, water and/or your preferred beverage. Side note: don’t bring something stinky, like tuna. Be kind to your neighbors. When you eat will naturally depend on whether you’ve been instructed to fast before and/or after labs and treatment. Nine years of treatment have taught me to bring snacks and lunch even for what I think will be a short appointment. Invariably, during the process of getting labs done, seeing the doctor and heading to the infusion room, there will be a hiccup. Like equipment malfunction, an order of medication that hasn’t arrived yet, a new computer system has been implemented or a staffing shortage or the doctor is running behind… a lot behind. I tend to be much snarkier when I’m hungry.
3. Pack a bag with your snacks, your lunch, your beverage, a blanket (at least for the first visit) and what else? I pack a book (two if I’m almost done with the first), a journal, lip balm, a small tube of hand lotion, breath mints (I feel for the nurses if they have to get too close) and cell phone charger. If it’s an all-day event, I bring my laptop. Other possibilities: crossword puzzles, magazines, a deck of cards, a sketch pad and art pencils. Whatever best passes the time for you.
2. Every treatment bag should include an unlimited supply of humor. Stuff will happen. It’ll be hard, but you may learn to laugh about it later. I bought a joke book to take with me to treatment when I was first diagnosed. This year I gave a joke book to the nurses at the doctors’ station and another to the infusion room nurses. If anyone needs a good belly laugh it’s the folks who work in oncology. I go to a phase 1 clinical trial clinic so it’s doubly true. It takes a special person to work in the field of oncology, and we need to do whatever little bit we can to give them a break.
1. Drum roll, please! Pack your patience in that bag. For all the reasons I’ve mentioned previously. Stuff happens. No amount of grumbling, arguing, pacing, stomping, eye-rolling, headshaking or toe-tapping will change that. Yelling definitely won’t. It took me far too long to learn this. I’m extremely impatient. I hate, hate, hate to wait. I believe a patient’s time is just as valuable as a physician’s. And it is. But it’s almost never the fault of the person who’s in front of me. This isn’t to say we shouldn’t stand up for ourselves, but most of our mothers would remind us that there’s never any excuse for being rude. Suck it up, grit your teeth and summon a smile. Then dive into your bag of goodies and be thankful you came prepared!
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