Boston Update

Well, it's 11 pm, and I've been struggling to maintain a good attitude. At this point, the situation is just ridiculously funny...to the point where if I start laughing about it, I might cry. So, here's the scoop.
I'm on a different floor than ever before because the other floors are all full. (Way to feel special, huh? I can't complain though; they're letting Aunt Carol stay here, which is not common practice.) My first nurse made me very nervous. I coached her through the pre-chemo steps and tried not to notice her apprehension or shaking hands, all the while praying. I ended up not being accessed until 3.5 hours after I got here, and at that point, the hydration was not the right solution (too low a percentage of sodium bicarb). So what does that mean? I'm just starting chemo now (2.5 hours later) because my pH hasn't been high enough (since my body had time for it to drop back down after the pretreatment I took at home). So in spite of my best efforts - like being assertive in making sure they activated me right after I got here - I'm still getting treatment in the middle of the night. Ugh. The good news is that I have a different nurse who I am more comfortable with.
OK. Now let's talk about the accommodations. The room is very small, which is fine except that we're supposed to fit a cot in here. You should have seen me and Aunt Carol trying to figure out how to rearrange the room - "interior design at Mass General" - so that we could fit a cot as well as have room for me and my IV pole to make it to the bathroom a million times during the night. We finally decided to move my bed over, after about 5 minutes of trying to figure out how to take the brakes off. Oh yeah, and we're still not sure how we released them, but the brakes are back on. Speaking of bathrooms, like the room, it's teeny. I can barely fit me and my IV pole in there at the same time. No shower either. It totally reminds me of a bathroom on an airplane, just slightly larger.
So, yet another adventure in chemotherapy. At this point, it doesn't really take me by surprise. God is still in control, regardless of how it feels. And who knows? Maybe the middle of the night treatment won't hit me so hard this time. If it does, God will pull me through. At the very least, these are good memories with Aunt Carol.