You say Zometa...

I say Zo-NOT-a.

As expected and as warned by my oncologist, I got aches and flu like symptoms a little less than 24 hours after my Zometa infusion last Wednesday. What was not expected was three days of upwards of a fever of 102.9 with only brief and intermittent breaks. After my third night of a fever spike, I finally conceded it was time to go to the hospital.

Nothing like the joy of sitting in the ER waiting room late on a Saturday night near someone clutching a clear tupperware bowl and vomiting repeatedly - not to diminish her pain, but couldn't she have at least grabbed a solid bowl? If I hadn't been wearing a mask and pulling the strings on my sweatshirt hood so tight you could only see my nose, one would have seen the horror in my eyes as I moved away from her to the opposite end of the waiting room while Steve registered me.

I was admitted for having a FUKC (Fever of Un-Known Cause) see what I did there? ;) Once in a private room, I went through the usual diagnostics I've been through at least two other times before when I was admitted during my chemotherapy for FUKC's - blood draws (lots of it!), chest X-ray, urine, and IV fluids.

At around 3am the doctor told me there was a suspicious spot on my lung and while they weren't 100% certain, to be safe and cover all the bases, they would be treating me for pnuemonia. Odd, but that is one of the extremely rare side effects of Zometa.

By 4:30am, Steve and I were finally home and going to bed. I'm only up typing this now because my FUKC is back and I'm unable to sleep.

The good news is, after three days of staying in bed, a bed which is only 25 feet from my laundry room, I'm now down to my last load of dirty clothes and I can finally see my laundry room floor again. Why WAS I washing all those vacation clothes anyway - I don't remember going on vacation?