And so we begin.

Live blogging today during Nathan's first chemotherapy treatment:

8:53 am   Apply the lidocaine cream to Nathan's chest to numb the skin above the port.  Realize I would not wish this moment on anyone, ever.

9:03 am   Check Facebook profile.  Cry and giggle all the same time.

9:11 am   Break up fight between Dan and Nathan over who gets to use the iPod first.  Suspect it will not be the last time.

9:37 am   En route to ACH, discover that the finger I used to apply the lidocaine is now numb!  Speculate out loud on what it would be like to pick my nose with a numb finger.

10:10 am   Check in at ACH.  Vitals taken.  First magazine of the day stolen from lobby.

10:30 am   Nurse Sonja arrives to take blood via the port; this involves sticking a needle into a target about the size of a quarter. Dan's offer to give it a try as he is good at darts is politely but firmly rejected.  Nathan's chest is as numb as my finger - YAY -  so it's a painless procedure, and he is back to his iPod by 10:40.

11:00 am   Physical exam by Dr O, who looks like she's about 25 years old and is dressed to kill and deserves her own blog post - she is that awesome.  She is very matter-of-fact as she gives Nathan the standard neuro mini-exam.  Dr. O is looking for asymmetry in his face and body, so she asks him to squeeze his eyes shut, wiggle his eyebrows, stick out his tongue and wiggle it from side to side, squeeze her hands in his.  Nothing is out of order, so she reviews the day's plan with us and heads out.

11:17 am   Nurse Sonja is back with the results of Nathan's complete blood count (CBC).  The stats we are concerned with are hemoglobin, platelets, and a subcategory of white blood cells called neutrophils, and all of them are excellent.  Since chemo does a number on the immune system, this will be a weekly routine to monitor for infections.

11:28 am   "Pee in this cup."  "Um, I don't have to go."  "Well, try anyway, or I'll have to track you down and make you pee later.  And leave the iPod here." I love Nurse Sonja.

11:35 am  It's showtime!  Nurse Sonja flushes the port with saline to make sure it's clean from the blood draw, and in goes the first drug, Vincristine.  Possible side effects include constipation, thus a lively conversation on stool softeners ensues.  Nathan iPods through the entire episode which lasts all of 2 minutes, and says, "Is that it?"

12:22 pm  On to the infusion lab, where drug #2 will be administered.  This is going to be a more lengthy procedure, so the first step is to order room service for lunch.  Nathan asks for pepperoni pizza, fries, a salad, chocolate pudding, and Coke; I am so hungry, I look at Dan's arm and see London broil.

12:30 pm   Vitals again.  Then, Nathan is shown to his chemo cubicle.  It's about 10 by 12 and features a chair which looks like a hospital version of a La-Z-Boy. He has his own TV monitor programmed with movies, and this finally distracts his attention from the iPod.  He gets comfy with a blanket and pillow, finds Iron Man 2, and barely notices when Dan and I ask if it's OK for us to get some lunch.  We get cleared by the patient and by the nurses who are still waiting for the OK from billing to begin treatment.

1:15 pm  We're back from lunch, and as cafeterias go, it was pretty nice.  Nathan has an enormous tray of food in front of him, and is plowing through it as his anti-nausea drug is administered through his port.    Ah, the ferrous smell of irony.

2:15 pm   Enter Carboplatin, the other ingredient in the cocktail.  If Nathan gets nauseated later, this will be the responsible party.  The nurse handling the drug is wearing a surgical gown and blue gloves; apparently, this stuff is one step below battery acid in terms of getting it on your skin.    She hangs the bag on his IV drip, checks that he's comfy, and estimates that it will take about an hour to empty.  Dan starts taking photos, and I start wondering if there are scrapbook materials with a chemo theme.

3:15 pm   The bag is empty, and all that's left to do is make sure there is no immediate adverse reaction.  We hang out for another half-hour before the nurses disconnect Nathan and argue over which one he likes best.  He feels fine - a little tired, but not nauseated at all, thank God.   We get our instructions for follow-up, and they're rather lengthy.  If he gets constipated, throw some Miralax in him.  If he gets nauseated, throw some Zofran in him.  If he's achy, give him one dose of Tylenol, but no more - if he gets an infection, the Tylenol could mask the fever, and then we would be headed near Shit Creek.  Remember to give him his antibiotics twice a day on Saturday and Sunday as a pre-emptive strike against infection.  And yes, he can still do chores on Saturday, and of course he should plan to go to school tomorrow.  That is the only time a grimace of pain appears on the boy's face.

4:45 pm   We rendezvous in the school board parking lot to pick up Matt, who has spent the afternoon at this best friend's house.  Josie, Max's mom, is a lifesaver - Matt will be spending every Wednesday afternoon with them during the course of Nathan's treatment.  As Matt gets in the car, Nathan describes the horror of chemo: "And I had my own recliner, and they brought me pizza and fries and Coke and Gatorade, and I had my own TV, and all I had to do was sit there!!"  Matt's jaw hits the floor, and he replies, "Talk about a blessing in disguise - AND you get to miss school!"

6:10 pm   Dinner arrives, courtesy of my so-wonderful-she-also-deserves-her-own-blog-post friend, Billie-Jo, who delivers a Mexican feast complete with chocolate lava cake.  She congratulates Nathan on a successful first day, and he grunts his thanks without looking up from the TV - he is back to protecting the Pentagon from zombies.

And that, my friends, is exactly as it should be.

Thanks for riding along today.  We literally could not do this without you.