And the rockets' red glare

After the two chemo drugs have finished their drip, there's a follow-up bag of hydration. Then, for dessert, an injection called Neulasta, a white blood cell booster to help fight off infection. Neulasta carries its own little warning -- ruptured spleen (sometimes fatal) and a serious lung problem called acute respiratory distress syndrome have been reported. Begs the question: once? few hundred times? two out of three patients? Also noted, about 30% of Neulasta recipients experience mild to moderate bone pain. How would I know? I came through the door with existing knee pain.

All of these treatment ingredients carry a set of risks, except perhaps the hydration, and the Neulasta is part of the package -- designed to boost the patient's immune system and keep her on her chemo schedule.

So, a shot in the arm, removal of the pic line and I was ready to be ejected from my recliner and sent packing. I was given two prescriptions: Prochlorper for nausea and vomiting, and Lorazepam, also for nausea and vomiting AND SLEEP. Yes, I could use some of that. Linn drove me home and said she'd check on me the next day.

I came home to life as usual. Packed up some sandwiches, drinks and snacks for Jeff's road trip, while he took my prescriptions to the drug store and got them filled for me. We had picked up his customer's car the night before and I was determined to get him out the door by 7 p.m. so that he would be ahead of the oncoming winter storm that threatened to be whipped along by 45 mph winds. The flat plains that I-55 cuts a swathe through from Illinois to Missouri are more than willing to blow that snow right back on the highway when you least expect it. With most of my relatives still located in St. Louis, I've made that boring yet treacherous drive through combinations of snow, sleet, ice, fog and wind. I didn't care for it.

Jeff cooperated and was ready to roll. I assured him I was feeling no ill effects. I'd have a light dinner, read for awhile, take the pill that promised no puking plus sleep, and hopefully recoup some of the shut-eye I had been denied the night before.

Jeff wasn't exactly happy about leaving town at this particular moment in my life, but I was fine with it. If I was going to feel really lousy, I'd rather be alone. If I felt good, I'd also appreciate some alone time.

I got ready for bed and about 10 p.m. called Jeff, who was almost to Springfield, IL, and still ahead of the snow. We chatted for awhile and then said our goodnights.

I turned out the lights as my cat Riley snuggled up against me, per usual, and waited for sleep. It didn't take long. The Lorazepam worked its magic. There was one interesting technicolor event though, before I nodded off, where I swore I was seeing, through my closed eyes, fireworks. It was rather pretty. Certainly way more than puking would have been.

I just enjoyed the show.