What Have We Got But Time?
Monday's treatment session seemed to be following its usual path - checking in for labs, moving on to appointments with the medical powers-that-be, culminating in my Benadryl-induced nap. There was a jarring interruption to this routine, however.
As trial nurse Lisa mentioned in our appointment last week, "Chemo time is like gold here - a scarce resource. I want to get your schedule set at least six weeks in advance so we have the best chance to retain what we've got established." Sure, there are times I feel like we're cutting it a bit fine, but on the whole it's all manageable and works well for patient and personnel alike.
What with one thing and another our arrival in Pod 1 for treatment was delayed by about 40 minutes, and the usual wait ensued for my custom-blended infusion to come from Pharmacy. I was settled in with my knitting and Saint H had something to read. Suddenly the woman in the next bed began shouting for the nurses. "I was scheduled to get in here at 9:30 and didn't get brought back until 9:45. I've been waiting an hour. I do not have time to wait around like this. You get this thing out of me, NOW!" She continued to rant at the nurses with almost hysterical fervor. She refused to be calmed and, at her insistence, her IV was removed and she stormed out.
I think we were all rather taken aback. I certainly don't understand the motivation for her outburst - was it a first treatment? Was she frightened? Was she not adequately prepared by her oncologist about what she would be going through, and why the recommended treatment course was being pursued? Did she not absorb anything beyond the diagnosis?
Whatever the reason, I see no cause for the nurses to bear the brunt of her unhappiness. I think it's fair to say that she doesn't have the same type of relationship with her oncologist that I am fortunate to have with mine.
If I had a nickel for every minute I've spent in waiting rooms and in limbo since my diagnosis, I'd be a very rich woman now. Come to think of it, I guess I am a very rich woman - after all, I'm still here.
As trial nurse Lisa mentioned in our appointment last week, "Chemo time is like gold here - a scarce resource. I want to get your schedule set at least six weeks in advance so we have the best chance to retain what we've got established." Sure, there are times I feel like we're cutting it a bit fine, but on the whole it's all manageable and works well for patient and personnel alike.
What with one thing and another our arrival in Pod 1 for treatment was delayed by about 40 minutes, and the usual wait ensued for my custom-blended infusion to come from Pharmacy. I was settled in with my knitting and Saint H had something to read. Suddenly the woman in the next bed began shouting for the nurses. "I was scheduled to get in here at 9:30 and didn't get brought back until 9:45. I've been waiting an hour. I do not have time to wait around like this. You get this thing out of me, NOW!" She continued to rant at the nurses with almost hysterical fervor. She refused to be calmed and, at her insistence, her IV was removed and she stormed out.
I think we were all rather taken aback. I certainly don't understand the motivation for her outburst - was it a first treatment? Was she frightened? Was she not adequately prepared by her oncologist about what she would be going through, and why the recommended treatment course was being pursued? Did she not absorb anything beyond the diagnosis?
Whatever the reason, I see no cause for the nurses to bear the brunt of her unhappiness. I think it's fair to say that she doesn't have the same type of relationship with her oncologist that I am fortunate to have with mine.
If I had a nickel for every minute I've spent in waiting rooms and in limbo since my diagnosis, I'd be a very rich woman now. Come to think of it, I guess I am a very rich woman - after all, I'm still here.
Labels: appointment results, clinical trial, life in general
posted by rcclive at
5:49 PM
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