Boobs On Ice™ : A Blogger Takes on Chemo Room Etiquette

I don't know what the story on chemo is in my case. At least I'm not scheduled for it right now.

But eventually - I mean this is cancer - so there's the word chemo that hangs out there in the air like some kind of boogeyman. It's going to appear in my life at some point. Whether that's in 6 weeks or in 6 years I expect it to show up.

I say "it" as if chemo is an entity. Like Hell or UFOs or Bigfoot - but scarier. Somehow it's taken on a personality of dread and uncertainty. For me the fear of chemo is nearly as great as the fear of cancer.

Not surprisingly I'm doing a lot of reading when I feel up to it - and I came across a cancer patient''s rule for behavior of the folks that accompany cancer patients when they show up to do their chemo visit. It was enough to give me a glimpse into the superficial part of the visits. I don't think I'm ready to know more. All in good time.

It made me smile too. So that's a good thing. You've got to be a little feisty to deal with cancer. I think the author, Kate, is certainly that.

Chemo Room Etiquette

Post on October 26th, 2007 by Kate

This is short list of general rules and guidelines that should be followed when you accompany a chemo patient to the chemo room. They are based on my observations over the past few months and I will add to them as need be.

1. If you aren’t a chemo patient, you don’t get a cushy chair. I don’t care if you have to pop a squat on the floor, we should never have to stand there waiting for a chair because your healthy butt is occupying one.

2. Eat your Big Mac before you step foot into the chemo room, even if that means cramming it down while standing in the elevator. Most chemo patients walk the line between nausea and hunger - the smell of french fries will usually send us running for the bathroom.

3. Don’t ask where a patient has been lately. Everyone has their own treatment routine and, often times that requires a few weeks of rest in between treatment. Don’t ask the nurses about a certain patient - they aren’t allowed to answer this question.

4. Speaking of nurses, they’re here to help me, not you. I know the water fountain is all the way on the other side of the room, but get up from the floor and get your water. Get me some while you’re up!

5. Never look cuter than the patients. That means no True Religion jeans, UGG boots, or Juicy shirts. The chemo room is not your runway and if you see us staring at you, it’s because we want your french fries.

6. Finally, the chemo room is all about us. Whatever we want, we get. So hand over the UGGs and no one gets hurt.

Read more at Kate's blog: I am strong. I am fighting. I am surviving. |.

About My Cancer

Invasive Lobular Carcinoma
My form of breast cancer is less common than others. In fact only about 6 to 8% of cases of breast cancer are the invasive form that is based in the lobules, not in the milk ducts.
Invasive, sometimes called Infiltrating, is a scary word. In most cases this form of breast cancer has been present for 8–10 years when detected by a mammogram or physical exam.
In my case there was clearly an area that felt thickened or dense on December 6, 2007. A mammogram the next afternoon was not able to detect it but it clearly appeared on ultrasound and was confirmed by multiple biopsies the same day.
During those 8 to 10 years the cancer took to become apparent to me, there has been plenty of opportunity for those invasive cells to get out of the breast and spread to the rest of the body.
It is after all, by definition, an invasive form of cancer.
Each year about 190 thousand women are diagnosed with invasive breast cancer in the US and about 40 thousand women will die of the disease. The larger the mass is when discovered the more risk. Mine had tentacled almost 5cm into the surrounding tissue and two other areas in the breast were discovered as well.
My chances of living another 10 years without cancer in another area are about 40%. The likelihood of one of my other underlying health conditions doing the job before that is 20%. it took a few months to get used to that idea.
Now though my attitude is that at least I know what I'm facing. It's just not what I expected. Life changes in an instant.

Comments

Hey that sounds like good advice, funny to.

Posted by: Frans | Dec 30, 2007 at 04:43 AM

This is a very good list. As someone who has accompanied a breast cancer patient to chemo treatments for an entire course, the only thing I would add to her list is to please refrain from carrying on a loud conversation in the chemo room. Depending on the type of chemo being administered, some patients are in that room for several hours & may want to strangle you during your discussion of your fabulous weekend.

I personally adhered to this list. Though I have to say that I did wear UGGs to the treatments - but I never for a moment thought I was looking "cuter" than anyone else. It was cold in Chicago - there were lots of UGGs in the room. I guess I'm glad I didn't run into Kate personally, lest I be one pair of boots short.

Posted by: Hooeyspewer | Dec 30, 2007 at 08:06 AM

To the cleaning staff: please don't use strongly scented cleaners. What are you thinking? 14 years later, lemon-scented floor cleaner makes me barf. Altho I'm thankful I'm still here to smell it.

Posted by: Ro | Dec 30, 2007 at 08:52 AM

Susan,

God bless you and I think it's extraordinary and courageous of you to keep this blog and detail for all of us your struggle.

Nettie

Posted by: Nettie Hartsock | Dec 30, 2007 at 06:08 PM

After I went thru my 12 weeks of chemo, I was ready to start a PR campaign to improve the image. Okay, no one is saying it's a good time, and everyone I know has a different experience, but it's come a long way since the projectile vomiting show we remember from movies and books in the 70s. First, you get to park in downtown Boston for $5. They bring you free food, and you get to talk to some incredibly interesting people. You also get to say no to all those things you think you should be doing but really don't want to but now you don't have the energy. And frankly, considering the alterntative... I'd happily lose my hair again.. asone of my heroes taught me: http://kdpaine.blogs.com/survivorblog/2006/03/what_do_you_do_.html

Posted by: KD Paine | Dec 31, 2007 at 07:01 AM

I'm just mentally substituting "Uggs" for "Crocs"

Posted by: QofS | Dec 31, 2007 at 03:42 PM