My very first treatment, I remember like it was yesterday... that statement would be a lie. I do not remember not because it was a bad memory I wanted to disappear but there was just so much happening, I was so weak, it was all new. My mother was with me, my father dropped us at the hospital early morning and was going to work. My father never in his life, took a day off or even a half day until I was diagnosed, and my mother left work to stay with me. We got there, I looked around, there were other kids, much younger than me also waiting for their treatments. If anyone would have asked me what I wanted to be in life, I wanted to be a criminology lawyer, it was my mother’s dream when she was young to be a lawyer, but she got married, and criminology just intrigued me. Now, I am in child studies and children just fascinate me every single day, and that is due to the three years I spent in a hospital room full of sick little children stronger than myself I might say. They showed me how children are much more than we think, their thinking capabilities, their strengths, their imaginations, their knowledge and much more. Well it was finally my turn to get some chemotherapy in my body, let see how well this port-a-cath works. (Disclaimers) Those with weak heart read the following lines with pace. The nurse came in with a treatment kit, in that kit was a needle, a huge one I might say, alcohol swab, gloves, and this blue material mat. She firstly wears the gloves, places the mat under my port-a-cath, takes the alcohol swab, very cold sensation, and lightly swab my entry hole to the port to sanitize it, and with her index and middle finger slightly placed and lightly pressing on the port-a-cath, inserts the needle that is connected to the bag of medication places over on a iv pump… and drip drip slowly the medication when through the iv tube to my port-a-cath to all the veins in my body to kill the cancerous cells.
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