The joys of chemo

Who wouldn't look for omens on the first day of chemo?

One of the first things my nurse, Judy, said as she prepared me for my initial "infusion'' of the cancer-fighting chemical today is that she had taken some grief earlier in the day for the Yankees' trashing of the Sox last night.

Turns out she is a Mass. native and an ardent and well informed (we agreed it's past time to dump John Schmoltz) Red Sox fan, with just the faintest hint of the Bay State left in her voice. Judy made me feel at home.

Just as we were leaving, a large number of staff members wheeled in a cake and sang "happy birthday" to a woman in a nearby chair. Seems like many of the patients have been getting chemo in this large open room with lounge-like chairs for years, and know each other and the staff well.

I wouldn't decribe the atmostphere in the room with maybe 25 patients as festive exactly, but not grim like the waiting rooms of oncologists we've visited. Relaxed is more like it. Patients were reading, watching TV, doing e-mails and chatting, some looking slightly bored, but not uncomfortable or scared.

The process was painless and relatively fast. I may well have some side effects, but they haven't kicked in yet (I'm writing this just a couple of hours after the end of the treatment.) I'm due back in the same place for the same treatment next Friday and the week after.

Maybe the best thing I heard Judy say today was that for many people in the room cancer has become a "chronic'' disease.

She was trying I think to warn me not to expect a cure, at least not any time soon. But that's not how I took it. At this stage I'll take a chronic anything, even a disease.