update: chemo, and moving

Updates.

on my first chemo treatment: This could be a series of posts.

Suffice it to say that Day One I had a reaction to the chemo starting (passed out, they called a code, gave me a ton of Benadryl) and they had to stop, and I was sent home. 
The oncologist called later that day, and said: "I suppose this is what you were trying to prepare me for."
Mad props to him-I don't know that I've ever had a doctor truly understand my sensitivity, let alone admit that I warned them.
I went back the next day, and with a few angel nurses (and my mom) came up with a work-around, which was successful.  
Fingers crossed, as my next treatment is next week, that it continues to work.

I moved (sort of, half my shit is still not moved)-to an apartment in a building with an elevator. This has been a long time coming (since a broken foot in July 2024, and several other medical situations since, up to/including the big surgery I had in January)-but was deemed necessary and ASAP once it was determined I was starting chemo.

My place, which I'd been in for more than 15 years, is a 3rd-floor walk up (4th if you count the garage).

More on this later.  It's a tough transition for a number of reasons, and I'm damn lucky and grateful that I can do it.

I sit here staring at my monitor wishing I had some grand thing to say. I don't. Cancer sucks-maybe with an extra umph when it's been your biggest fear your whole life.  
AND
people are great. Family and friends and medical providers and integrative healers. The friends who stayed with me in the hospital, or when I got home, or babysat before I was mobile again. the acupuncturists and medical qigong masters and naturopathic physicians and the guy who owns the moving company that said to me "it's one day at a time....I'll be praying for you." The young kid on the moving crew who shared with me that he's a cancer survivor. The other survivors, online and in support groups.

That's it. No big finish. Gotta go unpack more.