Chapter 10: The drip and the bag

If you’re not a medical professional, there is an awful lot to take in during those first oncology visits. I became her notetaker, because what else could I capably do? I asked some dumb questions, only hoping that there were no dumb questions (as a elementary teacher – I know that there are plenty!!).

After several appointments and lots of papers and packets and tests, we arrive for session #1 of her 12 rounds of chemo (she didn’t make it through all 12 before switching to another treatment… and then a trial treatment). I will remember this first trip forever, partly because of our nerves and uncertainty, and partly because when I went to school for a few hours while she was getting the drip, I had a challenging student rip rows of books off of the shelf while I tried to hold it together in more ways than one. It gave us both stories to tell when we reunited at the cancer center in the afternoon.

The drip drip drip of the chemo bags became a regular biweekly process. As with anything medical or otherwise, you adapt and get used to it. The bag of IV medicine that she brought home for the next two days also became a necessary hassle. We learned to adjust patterns for eating, sleeping, bathrooms, and get used to carrying the thing around. It was annoying but she was brave and strong and tolerated it every time. She named it Wilbur, partly because we had just received a wonderful bag of Wilbur chocolate buds! She wanted it to be a positive thing to deal with, and she requested decorations to make it less ominous and annoying and something more fun to share with the nurses. Her sister added the start, and then I would wake up super early every treatment day to velcro or throw something on there to surprise her and bring a smile.

Here are a few examples:

In any case, our routines kept drip drip dripping away

as our time was slip slip slipping away.

The black bag now sits undecorated and unused in her travel bag with notes and folders and stuff I’d rather not read again.

Note: This is a slice of a story this month I’ve started calling Good Grief as a way to document some moments with my wife before she passed away in Sept 2023. Feel free to scroll back and see the rest of the story.