karenulijohn

When I got up yesterday morning, I prepared a bag, much like the one I might take on a transcontinental flight.  It contained water, snacks, books, puzzles, cribbage board, a deck of cards, and a few other miscellaneous items, just in case we needed something to occupy our time at the infusion center for three to four hours.  At 9:45 AM we were escorted into a large room lined with a variety of recliners and lounge chairs.  Bright, colorful quilts hung on the walls and sunlight streamed through the wall of windows.  The nurses stations were piled high with magazines, chocolate, red licorice, and hard candy.  We were greeted by Kathy who would serve as Harvey’s nurse for the day.  She had him choose a chair and I was invited to take the one next to him.  Kathy began by giving him a small pamphlet that he is to carry with him, describing the drug and its effects, for emergency purposes.  She also encouraged him to keep a journal each day of how he was feeling and what changes he might be experiencing.  Kirsten, the study coordinator, then arrived with a bag of vials for the blood letting.  The study required 16 vials and the doctor needed five, for a  total of 21.  It actually sounds like a lot, but is, in fact, less than a pint.  He was then given a couple of Tylenol and a Benadryl drip.  We were told that these were given to help prevent infection and any pain from the infusion itself.  It took about 20 minutes and though Harvey kept insisting he didn’t feel any different, I could tell that it was having an effect because his speech had slowed down considerably.  Then, Kathy brought in the bag of Ipilimumab which is the generic name of the drug.  The brand name is YERVOY.  For more information on this drug, visit http://www.YERVOY.com.  It would  take 90 minutes for the Yervoy infusion, and I could tell that he was becoming drowsy.  So I tucked a beautiful blue multi colored quilt around him, gave him a kiss, and left him to snooze.  I returned about an hour later, and he was sitting up, reading.  When the infusion was finally finished, they sent him on his way with a cheerful wave.  The next infusion is September 18th.

As we were leaving the building, we were both struck by how “normal” everything seemed.  We aren’t special, experiencing something that no one else has.  There are thousands of people going through the same thing, day after day.  Some, like Harvey look perfectly healthy and normal.  There were several people in the infusion center while we were there.  A young woman, no more than 25, a couple of older gentleman, a couple of women in their 40’s or 50’s.  The nurses treated them all with such kindness and encouragement, always maintaining a cheerful yet efficient and professional demeanor.

At this point, it was about 12:30 PM and we were starving.  We decided on Bucca di Beppo where Harvey tucked into a large plate of spaghetti with a giant meatball and a gallon of marinara sauce which he finished off with half a loaf of Italian bread.  He said he was “carbo-loading.”  Huh!  After all those carbs and his ordeal, he slept most of the afternoon.  This morning he woke up feeling a bit flushed in the face, but otherwise, nothing is different.  He promised to tell me if anything changed so that I don’t need to keep asking him.  Isn’t that nice?