It's time for another installment of: Fun Times with Cancer!

Starring, Caroline! Dell Inspiron computer! Frosted Sugar Cookies! and Many Blankets! With special guests, Cold Hands and Nose!

Warning: Installment may be inappropriate for small children. Contains excessive bleeding and some mild profanity.

So, I'm all set now. Nurse Pam paid me a visit this morning. She drew about 10 mL of my blood, which was promptly picked up by the blood courier and delivered to an undisclosed location for testing. All I know is that I received a phone call a few hours later from a different nurse, name unknown, who informed me that my blood counts are low, so I will be receiving some more of the sticky red goodness tomorrow. (disclaimer: blood may or may not actually be sticky.) Nurse Karen then called some time later and told me she was on her way to my house to draw some more blood. This blood they sent to LifeSource - they supply the blood - who then test it to confirm my blood type. It's called "type and cross." I'm assuming the cross is cross-check, but I could be wrong. So Nurse Karen came to my house, drew some more of my blood, talked for longer than necessary about her family's three roadtrips to Alaska, and eventually left. I then received a phone call from Nurse Olga who will be infusing me tomorrow. She asked when the best time for her to come is, and I'm pretty easy going, so I told her whenever is best for her. Turns out that when is best for her happens to be at 6 in the morning. So it's an early night for me. I'm getting two units of blood and one thingy of platelets. And let's see, just to finish it off, on Monday my usual nurse, Jennifer, will be stopping by, oh wait, to draw blood! And then on Tuesday I head to the hospital for some chemo, and, you won't believe it, but more blood draws! And my doctor wonders why my red blood cell count is low. Alright, she actually doesn't wonder at all; it's because of the chemo. But nonetheless. Oh, the good news is that most of this will be drawn from my line. I think the only time they have to poke me is when I go to the hospital on Tuesday. That's good; no bruises or holes. Incidentally, when the nurses or doctors need to put a needle in a vein, they call it either "poking" or "sticking." Pleasant. "The more you know. (star!)" But anyway, I'm still doing well. Feeling generally good, and my unhappiness of the other night has pretty much receded to the back of my mind. None of this stuff ever goes away, either the happy or the sad, but mostly I can only focus on one emotion at a time. Right now, I'm anxious for this neutropenic week to end and the dastardly cold to go away. But other than that, it's all good. Peace.