Which it did. I spent two days with a hacking, dry cough, in bed with my industrial strength humidifier going full blast. (I was so tired, I don't remember most of Sunday.) CJ and my MIL, Betsy, took care of everything. Thank you SOOOOOO MUCH!!!
I knew it was bronchitis right away. Years teaching, you pick up everything. (Except the chicken pox. But that's because I had it back in 1982. You know, before the chicken pox vaccination days, when you just caught the darn thing and got to spend two weeks at home?) Anyhoo, dry, unproductive cough = bronchitis.
Unfortunately, bronchitis + chemo patient = calling the oncologist. In case your white blood cells aren't up to the task and you die. This upsets the doctor. So, you call (because you are a good little patient, not because you are really worried) and the oncologist's nurse wants you to come in right away. In my case, I called from the road, when I was dropping off Betsy down outside of Fredericksburg, Virginia. (About an hour and half from the DC metro area.)
After I told the nuse that:
1. I was in Fredericksburg at that time (2pm, Tuesday)
2. And I had my 3 year-old with me and there was no one I could drop her off with if I raced back to DC to see Dr. Dendalouri
the nuse said, "Oh, crap."
Yeah, sorry. An appointment that day wasn't happening. An anti-biotic prescription was called in to the Target pharmacy as a precaution.
Moving right along to today. Yep, I'm blogging from chemo again. Hey, I view chemo as quiet, catch-up time. At least until the massive amounts of benedryl kick in and make me loopy.
As you might have guessed from the title of today's blog, I am back in a private room, due to the bronchitis. Placed in the luxurious (for chemo, at least) confinement.
The other patients look like they are torn between shunning my not-bald-and-still-looks healthy self who occasionally coughs and wondering if I gave the chemo nurse a $20 to score one of the few private rooms, complete bed and flat screen TV.
Trust me, other chemo patients. You are not missing much. Except the TV and the porn DVDs I brought with me. (Oh, just kidding.)
Here are the pics of my swank room.