With my counts up to an acceptable level, I knew that the
next CROP was due. At 4.30 in the afternoon, the last of the
drugs had been injected into my veins. The release of the pressure
band around my forehead felt good, because I thought it had
been on too tight. The sheer volume of the fluids injected shocked me
again.
During the trip home, I stared blankly out the side window,
as nausea swelled within. My mother concentrated on the peak
hour traffic, with its tedious slows and aggressive speed. It was
a frustrating experience.
Even though it was not my first CROP, I was truly unprepared
for the night ahead. One option, I believed, was to eat dinner
as soon as I arrived home, to combat the sick feeling. Eating
has that effect for a very short period of time, but you can feel
that dominating sensation resurging by the minute. The portable
television took my mind off my sickness; temporarily.
