If I'd been home, I would've probably been doing the same goofing off things as here, so one could argue that I actually turned a profit on the whole business. Still, Kevin probably would have rather I'd come home at 11:30 instead of 2; hopefully, the kids haven't been giving him too hard a time this morning.
Treatment itself will be starting soon, as soon as they meds are ready, which they usually don't have mixed up until the needle's in (I guess because sometimes people have such bad veins, etc. that they *can't* get it in that day, and it wastes the meds? Not sure.). We tried inserting the needle into a vein instead of the port, because my port has shifted and tilted a bit, making it harder to access, but that did *not* go well; she dug around the vein for a bit, trying to get it to work, and my old vasovagal reflex thing kicked in and I almost fainted. I *hate* those symptoms -- cold and shaky and the room blurs around you. I told the nurse when it started happening, did my deep breathing, and she got the needle out, my feet elevated, my body tilted flat in the fancy chair they put us in, some cold water to sip, and we managed to stave off the actual losing consciousness, so that was something. Still, yuck. But on the plus side, the nurse thought it might be worth trying to access the port with me lying down, and in fact, that did make it noticeably easier to get to -- that position pushes it up, less tilted and closer to the surface. So one quick, nasty jab got it in, as opposed to the digging around we've had the last several months. A noticeable improvement.
I guess I'm learning how to be a better patient, which is...something? It'd be nice to just be done, though. Four more weeks of radiation, eleven more months (every three weeks) of Herceptin. Maybe hormones too -- will be talking to my oncologist about that on 12/14, so we'll see. Long haul.