Tuesday, August 6, 2024 

     I experience a new understanding of the infusion center.  I have been going to that building for 3 years, but to this infusion clinic for only 9 months. We the patients are participating in intimate uncomfortable awkward physical activities with nurses using catheters, and wipes, and needles, and dangerous chemicals.  There is a mutual trust that these activities might help, but we really don’t know.

     The activities are not intuitively useful but our story says this is what has to happen to potentially get better, no guarantees.

     Yesterday during my treatment, I start crying and cover my face with a cloth while the nurses work on me.  It doesn’t hurt very much, but is awful. Why am I allowing this to occur to my body. There is no answer and eventually at home I stop crying.

     This was my 28th infusion treatment in three years. I am losing my confidence in this story and am looking for a better, more accurate, story.

     I distract myself by suggesting we start a Bladder Cancer Patients for Kamala zoom event. The busy nurse is confused and asks, what are you saying. I can’t stop looking for some humor in difficult situations.