July 23, 2026 - Treatment 2
Time for treatment number two. This time I got to check in at half past nine. There was one chair left, with a view outside. Soon enough the IV needle was back in my arm, and after a few checks the familiar fluids were flowing through my bloodstream again.
But first, let's briefly go back to the first treatment. It actually started off quite well, until day four. That's when the nausea and relentless vomiting began. Very inconvenient, because I couldn't keep my chemotherapy tablets (Cyclophosphamide) down either. After consulting my haematologist, I was prescribed an additional anti-nausea medication: Granisetron. Fortunately, after two days without being able to eat or drink, I started to recover quickly.
Just like during my first treatment, coffee and cake were offered again. This time, I cautiously asked if I could perhaps have a piece of cake where you couldn't see straight through the butter. The nurse burst out laughing and admitted that she, too, preferred a more generously buttered piece of cake.
Time to open the book I brought along by Afke Boven — my apologies to Afke right away, the very first page ended up covered in butter.
Another nurse came by around eleven to ask if I'd like some lunch too. Since I'd already be finished before lunchtime, I politely declined the choice between a croquette or a cheese soufflé. I spotted a little cup of fruit on her cart and asked if I could have one. 'Of course,' she said, 'it's basically all-inclusive here!'
Sitting still for two hours isn't really my thing, so it was time to unplug the infusion pump for a bit and take a lap with the IV pole. 'Not too far now,' I heard behind me. 'We do want to keep an eye on you.'
In the hallway I saw someone checking the fire extinguishers. I recognized him from back when he used to do the same at my cooking studio. He was startled by my IV and said: 'What's going on, are you seriously ill now?' I brushed it off and said it wasn't a big deal. 'Just think of it as a tune-up.'
We got chatting about the good old days, back when everything seemed just a little bit better. What I hadn't noticed was that my IV infusion had long since finished and the pump had been happily beeping away. By then, the nurses had already made two rounds past all the chairs, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. They soon discovered that the culprit was standing in the hallway, happily chatting away. After a quick flush of the line, the troublemaker was finally allowed to head home.
With a supply of chemotherapy pills for the next five days and Granisetron to help prevent nausea, I was allowed to leave the hospital and head home.
One more extra apology to Afke. It really wasn't your book's fault. The first chapter was promising, but reading calmly during a round of chemo turns out to be about as tricky for me as eating spiced nut cake without butter.
The next beauty treatment is scheduled for 13 August.