If it's Monday, I am giving blood for a test. It's a 30 minute drive to the Sarah Cannon Cancer Center. They do offer valet service which I began taking advantage of on my second trip. Yes, I'm old enough for valet service, and some Mondays, I feel like I am the stereotypical cancer patient. I enter the door and sign in. A receptionist aims a thermometer at my forehead (easy task as I have a lot of forehead now!). And I answer the standard Covid exposure questions. I wait until my name is called. The TV is tuned to HG home improvement show reruns. Appropriate, as all of us in the waiting room are renovation projects. Some of the patients must be there frequently as some of the staff greet them by name. How often do you have to be there for that to occur? Today is my ninth trip to these offices. Yeah, I let the valet park my car.

My name is called and I go back to the area where four chairs are located. One of the technicians sticks my finger. And milks my finger for more than enough to measure. I don't watch. She wraps a bandaid around my finger with a small gauze pad, tightly. I will be glad to remove it soon. I go to another chair around the corner to wait for the results. This time I expect to be told that I'm good and I can go home.

Next Monday, the technician will insert a special needle in my port for the blood sample and to be connected for my infusion. I think I am nearly halfway through this process. 

I'm looking forward to the Mondays that I will swim in my pool and not have to drive across town.