Immunotherapy, Session 2 of 6

enjoying a drip

My appointment was for 9:30 yesterday morning. We left the house early--about 7:30--because we had to go all the way down to University Circle to the main campus of Seidman Cancer Center where I would receive the re-infusion of my T-cells that had been in Atlanta for a couple of days getting super-charged with Provenge, the drug that we're hoping will prove a mighty warrior against my cancer foe that's been hiding out in my body since 2004.

Seidman Cancer Center
University Circle

It was a good thing we left early: There was an accident on I-271 (and, of course, it was rush hour), so we did not arrive at Seidman until about 9 a.m. And then there's that parking garage ... no further comment.

We finally found the infusion area of Seidman, which is a huge place. Just walking through the halls, through the lounge areas, seeing all the suffering ... it is an education in the most moving way. Such a walk will show you (if you didn't know) that no one is exempt: men, women, young, old, black, white, and every other hue in the human rainbow. All are shuffling or rolling through Seidman's long hallways, seeking relief.

When we arrived, we learned quickly that there had been a scheduling error. It seems the Provenge shipments never arrive at Seidman until about 12:30 p.m. I'll confess I was annoyed (a stronger word would fit here, too, but I'll not use it: I'm too ... mature!). So ... three hours to kill.

We found a coffee shop where we sat (and groused) for a while. But I got to see a former student. His "Dr. Dyer?" right beside me startled me a little; I looked up. It was Fuad Muakkassa, a young man I'd taught at Western Reserve Academy in 2003-04 in English III. He's doing his residency at University Hospitals--dermatology. I'm not sure where he'll practice--but it's worth finding out and going there. He was/is a wonderful young man.

While I was in the coffee shop, I opened my iPad and pounded out both some doggerel and yesterday's blog post (about some song lyrics that annoyed me).

Seidman had given us some food coupons, so we headed over to the cafeteria to have a little lunch: a bagel and a yogurt parfait for me, salad and bagel for Joyce.

Then we took the long walk back to the infusion area. They got me in the chair. Told me what was going to happen. Stuck me (blood sample).

And then the courier arrived with my energized T-cells from Atlanta packed in dry ice in a large cardboard box. The nurse--a wonderful one, by the way--hung the bag, hooked me up, and for an hour Joyce and I sat there while some of Past Me dripped back into Present Me. It was the oddest thing ...

my T-cells, in solution, ready
to drip back into me

I talked with Joyce, recited some Millay to her, read some of a Jack Taylor novel using my Kindle app on my iPad (I could move both arms--the needle was down from my elbow a little). I felt a little chilled at times--but not much else.

The nurse came back several times to check on me--to get my vitals. And after the bag was empty, I had to sit for a half-hour for them to make sure I was all right.  I was. As I type this (about 10:15 on Saturday morning), I can say that I have, as yet, felt no side-effects. A relief.

And then the needle came out and we were off to the parking garage, where, of course, we'd kind of forgotten exactly where our car was ... Joyce poked the alarm button on our key. We heard the car before we saw it.

And then ... home, which is a shorter word for heaven.

We stepped in the house about 4:30. We'd been gone nine hours. And I was a third of the way through my journey ... But now I know what's coming, and knowledge is fear's greatest enemy.