Day One

Today starts a chapter in Peg's recovery that's a whole 'nother animal.  She's off to a good start.

She was admitted at 8:30 this morning to Sutter Roseville Medical Center, a beautiful state of the art facility about ten miles from our house.  We immediately took to the staff, and we all started making bets on how much fluid would be drawn out of Peg's swollen belly (the associate nurse nailed it at 3.5 liters; the rest of us guessed 4 to 5).  

About 11 she had the portacath put in (the tube that goes from her collarbone area to just above the vena cava, the main artery just above the heart).  She says that went really smoothly.  She was on "twilight" anesthesia, where she was fully conscious but relaxed.  They did the paracentesis right afterward, to Peg's great relief.  Buh-bye, one and three quarters Pepsi bottles worth of abdominal fluid.

At 5pm they started the 24-hour chemo drip.  She's on Benadryl, so she thought she'd just doze tonight and be up for visitors in the morning.  Tomorrow afternoon at 4:30 or 5:00 they'll do a fast infusion through her abdominal port, which will last for about two hours.

Once again, Peg has excellent care, only this time in cushier digs.  Mercy San Juan, where she had the surgery, is like the U.S.S. Enterprise, the WW2 aircraft carrier.  Sutter Roseville is like the U.S.S. Enterprise 1701-D from "Star Trek: The Next Generation."  Mercy was built in the 50's; the wing Peg's in is a year old.

If you can consider being in a hospital getting cancer treatments "normal," tomorrow should be a pretty normal day for Peggy.  She's got a lot of energy, her eyes are bright and her snarky sense of humor is very present.  Friday is a crap shoot in terms of how willing/able she'll be to receive calls and visitors.  She'll let me know what she needs... and I'll let you know.  I read all the blog comments to her, which she enjoys.  If you have trouble commenting (as I know some folks have) just email me and I'll get them to her that way.