This is it… day one

It all comes down to this. All the tests. All the procedures. All the scans and the blood work.

It all comes down to me sitting in this room for the next seven hours while this machine puts various medicines and fluids into my body.

I was packing my bag last night, and I couldn’t help but think that it felt like the first day of school jitters. You’re trying to make sure you have everything you need, but you’re still not a hundred percent sure. You’ve talked to people and read things online, but there’s still all the thoughts about what it’s really like.

Here’s what I’ve learned so far.

One, having a port is amazing. Uh. Maze. Ing. Instead of using an IV, they use the port—placed just below my right collar bone—to administer all the fluids, medicines and blood work. After being stuck dozens of times over the last several weeks, I barely even felt them access the port.

The rooms are very nice and mine has a window with lots of natural light. In fact, natural light floods the entire area and nurses station.

I’ve already raided the snacks and drink fridge.

A lot of my anxiety has been focused on the actual administration of the treatment itself—needles, hospitals, etc.

Now that I kind of know what to expect, I can start to feel my anxiety move towards how will I feel in the coming days and coming weeks. Everyone keeps talking about just how tired I’m going to feel. Then there’s the occasional comments about feeling nauseous.

It’s not a crippling anxiety, but it is a nagging feeling that has no problem reminding me that it’s there.