Ford figuratively was sitting on pins and needles today waiting for Dr. Alward to come in. Dr. Alward arrived fairly early and talked with us for a few minutes giving some instruction and some education. Then he released Ford.
We are home.
Now we make preparations for tomorrow's chemo treatment at the HCI. We are to check in at 7 am, Ford gets blood work done, sees the doctor, and then back to the infusion room.
This round should take about 5 hours once the drip starts.
We are due back the next day for follow-up blood work to check on critical levels.
Most of those caring for Ford have acknowledged that he is unusual. (Dare I even make an editorial comment?) (-: They have been good at going beyond the normal explanations and at giving us how's, why's, what's the norm, and what may be the procedure if things don't go the norm.
Throughout it all Ford's sense of humor has remained intact. He has been upbeat, cooperative, and courteous. A lot of the nursing staff have commented on it and in return have thanked us and treated both of us very well.
Middle-of-the-night experience: It is very late and I wake up to the sound of Ford's voice, in the best Irish accent he can muster, telling the nurses over the intercom that "wee leprechauns have made a visit and left a bit of gold treasure in the little room." This evidently caused quite a bit of response at the nurses' station. BOTH the RN & the PCA showed up at the door still laughing and brought two cookies. On each cookie was one decorated letter in icing. Evidently some of the staff had brought goodies to celebrate St. Patrick's Day and we received a double portion of the "Happy." Hey! It was REALLY late at night.