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September 10, 2013

I checked in at the hospital for the session of chemotherapy on Saturday, the 24th. My son had come down from London. He was incredulous first when my wife called him, asking her what sort  of a joke it was.

His wife was also there, and no, nobody was mournful. I had to thank everyone for that. Others being cheerless is bad!

The doctors had wanted me to start the chemo asap, on 23rd if possible. But the availability of facilities meant post-ponement by a day. After I was admitted, the doc on duty asked for the schedule of therapy.

Schedule? I had not heard of any such thing. It seems we missed taking one from the oncologist on the date of consultation. And now the doctor was out of station and was not taking calls on his mobile phone. So it seemed I would have to lie around for a day.

But then he called back and dictated the schedule.

They first gave some hydrocortisone, antacid, anti emetic, etc, and there was a wait of three hours and one hour, and then started the treatment with taxol and paraplatin. It lasted six hours.

They had fed me a sleeping pill. It seems it gave me unusual thoughts, as my son would later tell me, with Chinese invading us and swarming all over!

I was back home the next morning. Thankfully, there has been no nausea, no pain, but just loss of appetite.

The next session is on the 13th of September.


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