Cardiotoxic

“Are you ready for me to give you your shot?”

Kyle, my infusion nurse for the week, stood in the doorway of the cramped infusion room where I sat reclined, staring somewhere between the ceiling tiles and my own uncertain future.

“Let’s do it,” I said, pushing my reclined chair upright.

“I think this one goes in the right leg.” He said.

“Yes, you’re right,” I replied. “I still remember who gave what and where. Week 1 – Nurse Jenna did the left leg. Week 4 – You did the right. Week 7 – Nurse Amber injected the left. And now you get the right again. This is the last one, correct?”

“Yes, this is it,” Kyle confirmed. Then he added, “But you’ll still have the Zoladex shot.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “At least that one isn’t cardiotoxic like this one. From what I understand, though, this drug is the most effective for the type of cancer I have… or hopefully had.”

He pulled up a stool in front of me as I rolled down my pant leg, exposing my right thigh.

I sat.

Ready.

“Ok” I said. “Let’s go.” And I looked away.

He started the timer. Five minutes to slowly push the medication in.

The initial puncture stung. I pulled my focus away from the needle and into the distance….into the future.

This is it, I thought. I’m almost done with this phase of treatment.

What comes next? With my life, I mean.

I’m at the heaviest weight I’ve ever been. My resting heart rate is higher than I’ve ever known it to be. Food makes me queasy. My energy is foreign to me…. muted, dulled.

All I know is that I want this to be over.

Will I beat cancer? I don’t know. I hope so. But hope and certainty are not the same thing.

They say I caught it early. Lucky.

Lucky.

If I were lucky, I wouldn’t have gotten it at all.

I still can’t believe I got cancer.

It’s almost over, I reminded myself. Soon I’ll be able to travel again. Maybe visit my parents. Maybe sit across from my mom again.

Maybe, someday, I’ll look back and think That wasn’t so bad.

I shouldn’t say that. It isn’t over yet.

Four more weeks.

At least I’m done with this shot.

I hope my heart tolerated it well. I’ll find out next week when an echocardiogram is performed. 

My life has changed. For the better? I don’t know.

What I do know is this:

I’m still here.

Right now, that has to be enough.

“Ok. Ms. Medina, Times up” Kyle said and pulled the needle out my right thigh and quickly pressed a bandage over the puncture wound.