All in Anticipation

As I nurse my wounds (asking myself if I should take that little pill or a small shot glass of whiskey) or contemplate the sadomasochistic pleasures I take in my headache, I ask myself again which way to the lumbar puncture (in the basement) and which way to the next R-CHOP infusion (3rd floor).

All in a days dosage.

I never did catch the name of the drug they're going to inject into me via lumbar puncture (which I am tempted to abbreviate LP, but why should I put my readers through that confusion) except that it begins with the letter F.   I can think of any number of letters to add to it, but I wouldn't have the name of the drug.

I believe that the R-CHOP will stay the same, but for the fact that it will take (or is it supposition) 4 hours instead of 7 and a half.

I will only get stuck in my little port thing-a-ma-jig not in a vein, so one small bit of sunk costs pays dividends.

But I shall have to deal with feeling totally crappy for the next several days, but that's a small price to pay for having my life given back to me.