There's an area of the Hospital Car Park that is reserved for those of us attending the infusion center. It's often busy, but rarely absolutely full. With the state of the parking there at the moment, this is a blessed relief - there's building work going on and parking that has always been less than adequate is even worse because of it. But that is not the only perk of being a cancer patient - we also have our own pharmacy, upstairs away from the madding, coughing, sneezing, throng.
We also get a fast track pass for the labs - although as I have a picc line, which theoretically makes it a breeze for any old nurse to get blood out of me, I've not needed to wield this particular power. I say theoretically because once again today, my line refused to allow extraction and I had to wait for some thinning drugs to take effect on whatever was blocking up the end of the tube. Again, it's a minor annoyance - like the skin irritation under the dressing that I desperately want to scratch RIGHT NOW - and I realise that it is a small price to pay for the convenience of the treatment being provided as I move around, rather than having to spend a long intensive session in the infusion suite as many others have to.
I've taken to nodding and smiling at anyone with a woolly hat and a nervous expression anywhere in the vicinity of the hospital, as the chances are that they are fellow travelers. I'm still in possession of my hair, though I did trim it fairly dramatically as it was starting to thin a few weeks back, so am not a fully paid up member of the club. After the operation, I will be on a different chemotherapy treatment, so I may fall victim then.
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