At the infusion center: I'm on the second round of maintenance chemotherapy. Yesterday was wonderful, got lots done and feel caught up on things. The chemo infusion has knocked me back some today, but it is definitely easier to tolerate than the full on chemo.
I have become quite interested in how my fellow cancer patients are reacting to treatment. There were three men and two women, incl me, being treated today. One of the men was in full panic mode, shaking under a blanket, trying to shut everything out. He had his head hidden under the blanket and tried to make himself unapproachable. Another man, whom I have seen before, read a magazine and paid no attention to anything going on.. The third man sat quietly. When the nurse approached him to check his IV and ask him questions, he responded with grunts.
Now I don't know how sick these men were and what they were going through but the trend was obviously to draw into themselves and to force the nurses to reach out to them. This meant the nurses had to use their powers of observation and their intuition to figure out what was happening. For instance, a nurse would say, "Pain? " and look expectantly at the patient and then a conversation might ensue.
The other woman there was chatty with the nurse, and information flowed freely. Her friend came in and they conversed in a lively fashion. She was having a rough go with it, too. As for myself, I went through the protocol,the questionnaire. I'm used to dealing this way with information. And I can often get helpful tips on this and that with the nurse as well. This was just today, though. Several of the men I've seen at other times have been quite outgoing and even gregarious, and a few women have been withdrawn if they are very sick, so this not necessarily a gender thing I am constantly surprised at how much varied human behavior is hidden behind the word, "Cancer."
The TV is always on in the treatment room! It was tuned to a program on rehabbing prisoners by having them care for and train dogs. The setting was a squalid piece of nowhere in the semi-rural Midwest. The heavily tatted convicts were slogging around in the mud with some mighty ugly pit bulls. I thought, convicts and pit bulls. How delightful. What, as they say, could possibly go wrong???
Well, that's how I roll with all this.
Just a note today on Hillary's book:
I think I will handle the book this way: quotes and comments.
Professor Z, who has trouble relating to second wave feminism, might dispute my belief that the big issue for the young men-- esp. the young white men in the 60's --was the draft. The draft is the main reason my husband stayed in school and got his PhD. He had no interest, ever, in things military, and anyone with half a brain knew that Vietnam was a horror show. A poor GPA meant being drafted. And now women were coming along, competing for coveted seats that some of the men obviously felt belonged to them.
As she relates:
At college, I was spared some of the hostility many young women face because I went to Wellesley. Being at a women's college offered me the freedom to take risks, make mistakes, and even fail without making me question my fundamental worth. It also gave me opportunities to lead that I wouldn't have had at a coed college at that time. But once I left Wellesley, things changed.
When my friend and I went to take the law school admissions test in 1968, we were among the only women in the room We were waiting for the test to start when a group of young men started harassing us, . "You don't need to be here." " Why don't you go home and get married?" One said, "If you take my spot at law school I'll get drafted, and I'll go to Vietnam, and I'll die. " It was intense and personal. I just kept my eyes down, hoping the proctor would come to start the test, trying hard not to let them rattle me.
There was a professor at Harvard Law School who looked at me--a bright and eager college senior, recently offered admission--and said, "We don't need any more women at Harvard." That's part of why I went to Yale.
I have no trouble believing this.
