I never realized that getting cancer would mean my butt hole would be violated so much.  Welcome to the hospital.

I was admitted into Northwestern Prentice Hospital around three in the morning.  Sleep deprived, worried, scared and feeling like shit.  I actually was wheeled into a huge 600 square foot room.  I thought we were in a lobby to go into another room.  I also was in a room by myself.  THANK GOD.  I could not imagine doing that with another patient in the room.  I think I would have lost my shit.

So it begins.  Right off the bat the tests to do not stop once they start. I had the best nurse in the world that night, Annie, who seemed to make everything a little bit better.  She was quarterbacking a game plan that made the night better.  Like she was fighting for me, she was on my side.  I don’t really remember much more from that night. Except being violated.  My butt hole that is.  I am not exaggerating either.  It was looked at that night, swabbed and prodded.  I didn’t realize that having cancer meant butt hole rapes.

After the first couple of days of non stop fevers, pokes, tests, and doctors in and out at a pretty constant rate.  I wanted to shower.  I was on day two of no shower and getting angry and embarrassed.  I smelt, I knew I did.  I was sweating through my sheets due to the fevers.  I was miserable.  At this point I lost it.  I asked the nurse to take a shower because I couldn’t physically do it on my own and she said maybe later.  I lost it.  I cried for the first time since being diagnosed.  I got up with all my strength, crying, bee lined for the bathroom and started to get a rag with water and soap ready.  T Bear was right there behind me, asking what was wrong. All I wanted in that moment was a fucking shower.  I wiped myself down, but I am pretty sure it really didn’t do anything, stopped crying and climbed back into bed.  That was the worst moment I had in the hospital.  A culmination of everything up to that point, I had had enough.  The very next morning with a new nurse I demanded a shower.  I got my shower and I never felt better.  There is something so good about feeling clean, that I can’t explain.  I didn’t miss a shower after that.

So as they continued to run every test they could possibly think of, I was to the final bone marrow biopsy for final 100% diagnosis.  Dr. M did my first bone marrow biopsy.  They gave me  (of course the name completely escapes me at this time, back when I remember).  Let’s just put it this way.  I have never done drugs but after having this I completely understand why people do.  I have never felt so good.  I felt high and I liked it.  Being so high actually turned out to be a good thing for this one.  Dr. M started the procedure and pulled out his first sample, all white and looked like cortical bone.  Second sample was the same.  Third sample was the same.  Later we found out that the leukemia was so compact that it looked like cortical bone.  Whoopsie.

So, once we had confirmation that my T Bear and I knew we were in it for the long haul in the hospital.  Once they officially diagnosed me and started me on my protocol/chemo.  I mentally had to settle into our 600 square foot home.  I actually was supposed to be in the hospital through the first course of the protocol but I was busted out early.  I think it’s because I live so close to the hospital and I was doing so well.

Tests that I have had for diagnosis:

• Four X-rays
• Bone Marrow Biopsy
• Three MRIs.  One that lasted three hours(no joke) but I was high on morphine for most of it, thank you Annie.
• Lumbar puncture (LP)
• Endless blood draws
• Neurological exam
• Eye exam

Above was just the start of procedures that I would later endure.  Ugh, it’s exhausting just to think about.

So how do you pass 25 days time in the hospital?  I watched a LOT of law and order SVU, naps, tests, walks in the hall, and the occasional visitor.  I couldn’t concentrate enough to actually read at this point.

Day Five of just sitting in my bed and not moving much because I physically was unable, the doctors and nurses said it would be good if I spent the least amount of time lying in my bed as possible.  Sitting in a chair or walking, pretty much anything other than just laying and wasting away.  Something I could control.  So began my walking game plan.

The first day was the hardest.  Five laps around the floor took 20 minutes.  It hurt and sucked and I was sore after.  Pushing my asshole (my IV) with two hands on it at all times being careful not to fall.  I was being tracked though, my husband and my dad kept a log on the board that wasn’t being used.  It gave me goals and something to work on everyday.  I hated missing days of walking.  I even pushed hard on the days that I didn’t think I could do it.

I found out, every Tuesday is butt hole swap day.  Ugh, that is just about the worst.  That’s really all I need to say about that.

This was my asshole that I had to carry with me everywhere.  Walking, bathroom, sleep.  You name it. I did it with this asshole.  This dumb thing loved to beep at a pretty constant basis for no reason to.  By the end of the stay I was ready to break up with him like a bad boyfriend.  I couldn’t run away fast enough.  I actually spent the last two days in the hospital without him to simulate my at home experience.  Thank god he was gone and hopefully I will never have to see him again.  The relationship definitely wasn’t mutual.