I have come through this because it was God's will. And the hope and prayers and support from my family and friends have helped keep my spirits up and my mind healthy while by body heals.
Thank you.
My mom gave me this quote at the beginning of my treatment and it brought be a lot of comfort.
Joshua 1:9
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
For like 30 sec. I thought I might die.
I've never been short on drama and yesterday was no exception. IT WAS MY LAST CHEMO TREATMENT!!!! Yeah, yeah, holy cow, big fricken yeah! Marcia and I were smiling ear to ear as we climbed in the car for the last time. We did our Wednesday morning lab routine with a twist. Instead of simple coffee and tea at Dunkin' Donuts, we upgraded to Ida's Cafe, an adorable breakfast and lunch joint with delicious French Toast and Eggs Benedict. We felt like treating ourselves for all the time she and I have put into fighting this damn cancer.
All was well with the world until 2 pm. Kerri, my 28 year old fellow patient, was celebrating her last treatment too. So fun! She made two delicious batches of cookies. I bought a pint of ice cream at Turkey Hill. (Baking's not my thing. Using my debit card at quickie marts is more my thing!) So we toasted ourselves and patted each other on the back and vowed never to come back to the chemo room for chemo. Maybe just to see Kristin - but that's it!
I was asleep for a bit. The 50mg of Benadryl does it to me every time. Then it got interesting. Out of nowhere I start feeling weird. I think you feel weird a lot when you're on chemo. If I have a nose bleed, I blame chemo. A headache, chemo. A pimple, must be chemo. A bad hair day ... well those don't happen anymore ... because of chemo. You get my point. But this was different.
If you are going to have a small crisis you need two people by your side: Kristin and Dr. Evans. It was Kristin who looked right at me and asked, "Are you okay?" I wasn't but I couldn't even articulate exactly what wasn't okay. So after she prompted me, all I said was, "I'm feeling really weird."
If I said that to my sisters they would laugh and balk and say you've always been weird. But Kristin (despite her being one of three girls and having the same sense of humor my sisters have) was on it in two seconds. She said you're having an allergic reaction to the Cisplatin, the chemo that was dripping in. As my symptoms got worse, Kristin sprung into action. She stopped the chemo immediately. Asked me all these questions. Could I breathe? Did my throat feel like it was closing. No. I could breathe but I was getting a little panicky. For an instant, I was like, this is it, something is suddenly terrible wrong. My face felt like it was burning, I was dizzy and all of a sudden terribly nauseous. I felt like I wanted to throw up but couldn't. My belly was cramping and I knew I never felt like this before.
Krisitn gets Dr. Evans who was on the phone. She said, "Come quick. Well, finish what you're doing, but come quickly after that." That part makes me laugh. All I remember was Dr. Evans sitting right next to me, talking to me, asking me questions, checking my pulse, monitoring my breathing. Simultaneously, Kristin pumped in some more Benadryl, 100mg this time - double the dose I got in the morning. They started some fluids and said that would help too.
The women explained it would take a little bit for this to subside because it would take a little time for the Cisplatin to dilute in my system. I had to go to the bathroom. Afraid to leave me alone and because of the benadryl I was walking like a drunken sailor, Kristin came with me. She's seen enough of my ass cheeks already, what's the difference if we tinkle together. I sat back down in my barcalounger, calmed down and then promptly passed out from the drugs. I woke up about 20 minutes later a different person. I wasn't being called to the bright, white light. I was alive and well albeit a little groggy. These women saved the day yet again.
So, yes. I'm done with chemotherapy! I'd do back flips if I had the energy. In great Meredith fashion, I went out with a bang. Crisis averted. Moving nowhere but forward.
All was well with the world until 2 pm. Kerri, my 28 year old fellow patient, was celebrating her last treatment too. So fun! She made two delicious batches of cookies. I bought a pint of ice cream at Turkey Hill. (Baking's not my thing. Using my debit card at quickie marts is more my thing!) So we toasted ourselves and patted each other on the back and vowed never to come back to the chemo room for chemo. Maybe just to see Kristin - but that's it!
 |
| Yeah! Last day of Chemo! Hurrah! |
I was asleep for a bit. The 50mg of Benadryl does it to me every time. Then it got interesting. Out of nowhere I start feeling weird. I think you feel weird a lot when you're on chemo. If I have a nose bleed, I blame chemo. A headache, chemo. A pimple, must be chemo. A bad hair day ... well those don't happen anymore ... because of chemo. You get my point. But this was different.
If you are going to have a small crisis you need two people by your side: Kristin and Dr. Evans. It was Kristin who looked right at me and asked, "Are you okay?" I wasn't but I couldn't even articulate exactly what wasn't okay. So after she prompted me, all I said was, "I'm feeling really weird."
If I said that to my sisters they would laugh and balk and say you've always been weird. But Kristin (despite her being one of three girls and having the same sense of humor my sisters have) was on it in two seconds. She said you're having an allergic reaction to the Cisplatin, the chemo that was dripping in. As my symptoms got worse, Kristin sprung into action. She stopped the chemo immediately. Asked me all these questions. Could I breathe? Did my throat feel like it was closing. No. I could breathe but I was getting a little panicky. For an instant, I was like, this is it, something is suddenly terrible wrong. My face felt like it was burning, I was dizzy and all of a sudden terribly nauseous. I felt like I wanted to throw up but couldn't. My belly was cramping and I knew I never felt like this before.
Krisitn gets Dr. Evans who was on the phone. She said, "Come quick. Well, finish what you're doing, but come quickly after that." That part makes me laugh. All I remember was Dr. Evans sitting right next to me, talking to me, asking me questions, checking my pulse, monitoring my breathing. Simultaneously, Kristin pumped in some more Benadryl, 100mg this time - double the dose I got in the morning. They started some fluids and said that would help too.
The women explained it would take a little bit for this to subside because it would take a little time for the Cisplatin to dilute in my system. I had to go to the bathroom. Afraid to leave me alone and because of the benadryl I was walking like a drunken sailor, Kristin came with me. She's seen enough of my ass cheeks already, what's the difference if we tinkle together. I sat back down in my barcalounger, calmed down and then promptly passed out from the drugs. I woke up about 20 minutes later a different person. I wasn't being called to the bright, white light. I was alive and well albeit a little groggy. These women saved the day yet again.
So, yes. I'm done with chemotherapy! I'd do back flips if I had the energy. In great Meredith fashion, I went out with a bang. Crisis averted. Moving nowhere but forward.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Yes, by the hair on my chinny chin chin!
Did you hear I lost my hair? Of course you did. It's all I talk about. Plus, my bald head is all my husband looks at all day. I try to maintain some sense of decorum outside of the house (ie: ball cap most days, wig if it's fancy outing or I don't want to answer so many questions). While I'm home alone with Chris, though, I go naked. On the top. Of my head. Get your mind out of the gutter.
So here's the hair sitch as it stands now:
Head - peach fuzz
-a lot of it is soft and really blonde
-but some of it is dark and it makes it look like my scalp is dirty
-I'm not dirty, I am bathing regularly. It could be that "it grows in curly and dark" post-chemo hair that everyone talks about.
-Dr. Evans says the hair I have now has a name: Lanugo, and it's the same type of hair babies are born with that eventually falls out. To be determined if mine will fall out and then the "real" hair will grow back in.
-Dr. Evans also says it takes at least four months to grow enough hair to style. Hair grows an average of 1/2 inch a month. So instead of singing "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth," I'll be singing "All I want for Christmas is two inches of hair."
Arms - 50%
-anyone who knows me well knows I could stand to loose a little arm hair. Before chemo I was part monkey. I am a practicing Catholic who knows all about Adam and Eve. But the amount of hair I used to have on my arms confirms for me that we descended from apes. I think I'm still part ape. Must not have made it up that last rung on the evolutionary ladder.
-one chemo silver lining is that the arm hair thinned out a bit. I'm not smooth like a gay man after he shaves his arms or a swimmer getting ready for the Olympics, but it's thinner. No major regrowth yet.
Eyebrows - thin
-I remember going to counseling and the woman saying to me, "So you lost your eyebrows?" I was thinking, no they are still there. I said to her that I was thinking of plucking some of the straggling hairs just to make what was left look even. She said clearly, "You don't have to bother plucking anything." I put the tweezers down and haven't picked it up since. It's saving me time, I guess.
Eyelashes - growing back!!
-This is wonderful news! I had some long lashes before. Nothing like most 7 year old boys I meet. (God is so unfair when he gives little boys eyelashes that are so lush and long they create their own breeze. And then when a women notices and tells a little boy he has the most beautiful eyelashes, he invariably rolls his eyes at you!) So when the long ones fell out, putting mascara on was train wreck.
Thankfully, there are some hairs there the mascara sticks to and it makes be feel like a new person.
-Kara, my hairdresser extraordinaire and fun-loving friend, gifted me fake eyelashes before my hair fell out. Two pairs: one normal pair of long, pretty lashes; the other with rhinestones at the lid line! I've been waiting for a special occasion to use them, but nothing that exciting has happened to me yet. I haven't been out and about much - that's for sure. I bought the red wig so I could wear it dancing ... I have yet to dance. But when I finally get the energy to stay up past 9pm and hit the dance floor, that's the day I'm breaking out the rhinestone eyelashes!
Chin - oh ... it's back with a vengence!
-No decent woman should admit to having chin hair. But if this blog proves one thing, it's that I am no decent woman.
-I've been tweezing the hair on my chin since I was 17. To be honest, it's like popping pimples for me - I love it! Sitting in front of the magnification mirror for hours on end!
-I've invested several thousand dollars in laser hair removal on my face. Let's just say, it doesn't really work.
-But the laser hair removal lady I've been going to recently is so much fun. She's obviously had her lips done, so even when she is done talking and at rest, her lips land in this overstuffed pouty look. I love looking at it.
-Back to the chin tweezing for me. Oh well, maybe they'll cure cancer and excessive body hair in the same week.
My Legs - eh
-If you're going to beach it, they need a quick razor.
-But like my arms, my legs are enjoying a hiatus from all that fur.
"Other" hair - Still like a 10 year old
-It was my chemo friend Agnes who schooled me on this. She said, "You lose your hair everywhere!" (emphasis on everywhere) She didn't have to say it twice, I got it.
-No Brazilians for me. Saving money on razor blades and waxing.
-Chris doesn't seem to mind.
Now I've said too much, but you're up to date. You're welcome.
So here's the hair sitch as it stands now:
Head - peach fuzz
-a lot of it is soft and really blonde
-but some of it is dark and it makes it look like my scalp is dirty
-I'm not dirty, I am bathing regularly. It could be that "it grows in curly and dark" post-chemo hair that everyone talks about.
-Dr. Evans says the hair I have now has a name: Lanugo, and it's the same type of hair babies are born with that eventually falls out. To be determined if mine will fall out and then the "real" hair will grow back in.
-Dr. Evans also says it takes at least four months to grow enough hair to style. Hair grows an average of 1/2 inch a month. So instead of singing "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth," I'll be singing "All I want for Christmas is two inches of hair."
 |
| I know it's hard to see. I've have to have Ronda, my personal photographer, take a better picture of the down growing on my head. |
-anyone who knows me well knows I could stand to loose a little arm hair. Before chemo I was part monkey. I am a practicing Catholic who knows all about Adam and Eve. But the amount of hair I used to have on my arms confirms for me that we descended from apes. I think I'm still part ape. Must not have made it up that last rung on the evolutionary ladder.
-one chemo silver lining is that the arm hair thinned out a bit. I'm not smooth like a gay man after he shaves his arms or a swimmer getting ready for the Olympics, but it's thinner. No major regrowth yet.
Eyebrows - thin
-I remember going to counseling and the woman saying to me, "So you lost your eyebrows?" I was thinking, no they are still there. I said to her that I was thinking of plucking some of the straggling hairs just to make what was left look even. She said clearly, "You don't have to bother plucking anything." I put the tweezers down and haven't picked it up since. It's saving me time, I guess.
Eyelashes - growing back!!
-This is wonderful news! I had some long lashes before. Nothing like most 7 year old boys I meet. (God is so unfair when he gives little boys eyelashes that are so lush and long they create their own breeze. And then when a women notices and tells a little boy he has the most beautiful eyelashes, he invariably rolls his eyes at you!) So when the long ones fell out, putting mascara on was train wreck.
Thankfully, there are some hairs there the mascara sticks to and it makes be feel like a new person.
-Kara, my hairdresser extraordinaire and fun-loving friend, gifted me fake eyelashes before my hair fell out. Two pairs: one normal pair of long, pretty lashes; the other with rhinestones at the lid line! I've been waiting for a special occasion to use them, but nothing that exciting has happened to me yet. I haven't been out and about much - that's for sure. I bought the red wig so I could wear it dancing ... I have yet to dance. But when I finally get the energy to stay up past 9pm and hit the dance floor, that's the day I'm breaking out the rhinestone eyelashes!
Chin - oh ... it's back with a vengence!
-No decent woman should admit to having chin hair. But if this blog proves one thing, it's that I am no decent woman.
-I've been tweezing the hair on my chin since I was 17. To be honest, it's like popping pimples for me - I love it! Sitting in front of the magnification mirror for hours on end!
-I've invested several thousand dollars in laser hair removal on my face. Let's just say, it doesn't really work.
-But the laser hair removal lady I've been going to recently is so much fun. She's obviously had her lips done, so even when she is done talking and at rest, her lips land in this overstuffed pouty look. I love looking at it.
-Back to the chin tweezing for me. Oh well, maybe they'll cure cancer and excessive body hair in the same week.
My Legs - eh
-If you're going to beach it, they need a quick razor.
-But like my arms, my legs are enjoying a hiatus from all that fur.
"Other" hair - Still like a 10 year old
-It was my chemo friend Agnes who schooled me on this. She said, "You lose your hair everywhere!" (emphasis on everywhere) She didn't have to say it twice, I got it.
-No Brazilians for me. Saving money on razor blades and waxing.
-Chris doesn't seem to mind.
Now I've said too much, but you're up to date. You're welcome.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
I look like Rodney King
First, can you believe that Rodney King died?!? No one had heard a peep from that man since his 1991 beating and LA riots for years. Then he comes out with a book this spring?? THEN he ends up dead at the bottom of his swimming pool?? Weird.
Ok, so I don't look like Rodney. That's being a little dramatic. (Can you imagine? Moi? Dramatic?) But I'm seriously bruised. Everywhere. If you look at me to harshly, it leaves a bruise. If a fly lands on my leg, when he flies away ... it's purple. We have serious problems here!
Now, I'm sure there is a medical answer for this. Like my damn platelets are low and that ... blah blah blah. Or I'm on that blood thinner and that ... blah blah blah. All I know, is you could play connect the dots with the purple spots I'm rocking right now. Thankfully, I've been documenting them for your viewing pleasure. If you're traumatized by these photos, I understand and I apologize.
This one is from a wiffle ball. A fucking wiffle ball! The kids were playing on the beach. I was covering 3rd. Line drive straight to my leg. Whammo! Purple. (Plus I messed up the play so badly, the kid ran all the way home!) But wait, it gets better ...
This is from a ping pong ball. My leg looks like a tree trunk, I know. It's pasty white because I can't go in the sun and it's still flabby - despite cancer!! (If you can't drop a couple lbs during cancer there is no justice in this world!) My nephews are like Ping Pong champions. Susan Sarandon better watch out. If I put the Cooke boys on the circuit, they'll take down her players any time! So with three of them, I thought I would jump in as the 4th player at Marcia's Basement Table Tennis Lounge. It was good until I took a small plastic ball to the thigh. Really? A ping pong ball bruise?
You can almost see my crack in this one, but I wanted to give you just an idea of what the rest of my ass looks like. This splotch is because I walked into a banister but it has friends a little lower down. Both cheeks are covered with bruises from all the shots in my butt. Chris and Kristin have been having a grand old time with my tookus. The bruises there are varying shades of purple, yellow and green. At least we can tell which cheek we used last by the color palette.
And finally, this doosey. Frankie Brancaccio used to sing "She's got legs!" when I walked in the room. Now he would sing, "She's got some shit on her legs ... kinda looks like mold." This is simply from being a klutz. But when I knocked my knee it sent a zinger ... like with your funny bone when it zings down your arm. Except this shot down my leg. Can't be good. But if I want to remember exactly where to hit to make that happen, God left me a small indication. Thanks for that.
Ok, so I don't look like Rodney. That's being a little dramatic. (Can you imagine? Moi? Dramatic?) But I'm seriously bruised. Everywhere. If you look at me to harshly, it leaves a bruise. If a fly lands on my leg, when he flies away ... it's purple. We have serious problems here!
Now, I'm sure there is a medical answer for this. Like my damn platelets are low and that ... blah blah blah. Or I'm on that blood thinner and that ... blah blah blah. All I know, is you could play connect the dots with the purple spots I'm rocking right now. Thankfully, I've been documenting them for your viewing pleasure. If you're traumatized by these photos, I understand and I apologize.
This one is from a wiffle ball. A fucking wiffle ball! The kids were playing on the beach. I was covering 3rd. Line drive straight to my leg. Whammo! Purple. (Plus I messed up the play so badly, the kid ran all the way home!) But wait, it gets better ...
This is from a ping pong ball. My leg looks like a tree trunk, I know. It's pasty white because I can't go in the sun and it's still flabby - despite cancer!! (If you can't drop a couple lbs during cancer there is no justice in this world!) My nephews are like Ping Pong champions. Susan Sarandon better watch out. If I put the Cooke boys on the circuit, they'll take down her players any time! So with three of them, I thought I would jump in as the 4th player at Marcia's Basement Table Tennis Lounge. It was good until I took a small plastic ball to the thigh. Really? A ping pong ball bruise?
You can almost see my crack in this one, but I wanted to give you just an idea of what the rest of my ass looks like. This splotch is because I walked into a banister but it has friends a little lower down. Both cheeks are covered with bruises from all the shots in my butt. Chris and Kristin have been having a grand old time with my tookus. The bruises there are varying shades of purple, yellow and green. At least we can tell which cheek we used last by the color palette. 
And finally, this doosey. Frankie Brancaccio used to sing "She's got legs!" when I walked in the room. Now he would sing, "She's got some shit on her legs ... kinda looks like mold." This is simply from being a klutz. But when I knocked my knee it sent a zinger ... like with your funny bone when it zings down your arm. Except this shot down my leg. Can't be good. But if I want to remember exactly where to hit to make that happen, God left me a small indication. Thanks for that. How can you be sad when you look at these faces?
I'm really tired of having cancer. Really tired. But there are some things in life that make me very happy. My niece and nephew, Hailey and William are two of them.
If you will indulge me, you can check out this fun photo shoot we had at the beach last week.
The photographer, Stacey Fitzpatrick, lives and works in Lancaster. I've been admiring her photos for years. She also goes to Ocean City, NJ during the summer and met us there to take photos of the kids.
They are amazing. When I think Cancer Sucks, I then try to think The Kids Are Great! And these photos make me smile. The kids are so darn cute! And my husband isn't bad either! :-)
Go to:
-www.staceyfitzpatrick.com
-Click on the left box "Babies, Kids, Families and Beach"
-It will open up a new window, look to the bottom right.
-Click on "Proofing"
-Put in the passwork: cooke (all lowercase) and hit submit.
-Turn your speakers up, there is great music to go along with the slideshow.
Thanks for letting me show them off! Enjoy!!
If you will indulge me, you can check out this fun photo shoot we had at the beach last week.
The photographer, Stacey Fitzpatrick, lives and works in Lancaster. I've been admiring her photos for years. She also goes to Ocean City, NJ during the summer and met us there to take photos of the kids.
They are amazing. When I think Cancer Sucks, I then try to think The Kids Are Great! And these photos make me smile. The kids are so darn cute! And my husband isn't bad either! :-)
Go to:
-www.staceyfitzpatrick.com
-Click on the left box "Babies, Kids, Families and Beach"
-It will open up a new window, look to the bottom right.
-Click on "Proofing"
-Put in the passwork: cooke (all lowercase) and hit submit.
-Turn your speakers up, there is great music to go along with the slideshow.
Thanks for letting me show them off! Enjoy!!
Now I'm Getting Bitchy
It's only because we're nearly done that I can cop an attitude. Last week was supposed to be the Cooke Cousin Reunion. We took a weeks vacation time planning to spend it in Aspen with 20 other Cooke/Murrays. Fly fishing, white water rafting, hiking ... all the stuff it's just too cold to do when you hit Aspen in the winter. Would have been great. But when the ring leader comes down with a bad bout of cancer, the plans go to shit. I cancel more vacations than I go on. And that's saying something, because I go on a lot of vacations.
So to salvage the week I made my husband take off, we hit the beach. Let's be honest: not a bad alternative. And we were able to get the Jorgensen Girls to stop by the beach for a bit, so that's an added bonus. But of course, the cancer gods deem chemo necessary. So we drive back to Lancaster, sit for 7 hours for the poison, sleep half of the next day, then try to resume the vacation. I was like a walking zombie on the beach. If you think hauling a cooler, beach chairs, the towels, sunscreen and an umbrella to keep me from burning up like a vampire in daylight is hard on a normal day ... try it after 7 hours of chemo. (I understand I'm complaining about being on the beach. But I believe my current situation allows a modicum of complaining.)
Fast forward to this week. Chemo was scheduled for Tuesday because of the July 4th holiday. Go for bloodwork. Guess what? No chemo. Too sick. Platelets are 20. My nose bleeds if there is a strong wind. Fuckers. Would have been nice to skip last week and go this week. But like all things cancer: YOU HAVE NO CONTROL. Even six months into this, that still seems to bother me. Won't it be a shame if I learn nothing from this illness?
Thanks to the low numbers, my mouth has exploded in sores. The people who don't know I'm going through chemo must think I have Herpes, Hep B and C and the HIV - that's how shitty my mouth looks. No, no, people; I wasn't making out with a homeless IV drug user. I just have cancer and this is how my body responds.
See ... I said I was getting bitchy. I'll go now and find my happy pills and take like 86 of them.
So to salvage the week I made my husband take off, we hit the beach. Let's be honest: not a bad alternative. And we were able to get the Jorgensen Girls to stop by the beach for a bit, so that's an added bonus. But of course, the cancer gods deem chemo necessary. So we drive back to Lancaster, sit for 7 hours for the poison, sleep half of the next day, then try to resume the vacation. I was like a walking zombie on the beach. If you think hauling a cooler, beach chairs, the towels, sunscreen and an umbrella to keep me from burning up like a vampire in daylight is hard on a normal day ... try it after 7 hours of chemo. (I understand I'm complaining about being on the beach. But I believe my current situation allows a modicum of complaining.)
Fast forward to this week. Chemo was scheduled for Tuesday because of the July 4th holiday. Go for bloodwork. Guess what? No chemo. Too sick. Platelets are 20. My nose bleeds if there is a strong wind. Fuckers. Would have been nice to skip last week and go this week. But like all things cancer: YOU HAVE NO CONTROL. Even six months into this, that still seems to bother me. Won't it be a shame if I learn nothing from this illness?
Thanks to the low numbers, my mouth has exploded in sores. The people who don't know I'm going through chemo must think I have Herpes, Hep B and C and the HIV - that's how shitty my mouth looks. No, no, people; I wasn't making out with a homeless IV drug user. I just have cancer and this is how my body responds.
See ... I said I was getting bitchy. I'll go now and find my happy pills and take like 86 of them.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
I'm So Sleepy
This week went as planned. Fun sisters visit!! Playing with my niece and nephew. Decent blookwork - thank goodness. And a day's worth of chemo today. Kristin and Dr. Evans were kind enough to shift me a day, so I could enjoy my family for most of the week.
Platelets were good, hCG is still below 2. White and Red blood cell are apparently the correct shades of white and red. We're plugging along! Chris was my Special Friend today because he is off this week. It was fun to have him with me ... although I sleep most of the 7 hours away. I talk in the beginning, start slurring, then I'm out. Today I was talking to Kristin - I felt like we had a lot to catch up on - and my teeth started chattering. (Keep in mind we're in a 93 degree heat wave!) But the drugs make me chatter and I can no longer form normal words. That's when you know it's time to sleep. I was a pretty bad drooler today too! I apologize now to whoever has to use the blanket I used today. Plus, Chris brought me treats: including nubby donuts, Pringles and buttered popcorn. Let's just say the Barcalounger I was in today looks like a toddler had a temper tantrum in it. Very crumby food to eat and I left crumbs!
Between all the kid's hugs and kisses and conversations like this:
William: Aunt Mimi?
Mer: Yes, William?
William: Guess what?
Mer: What, kid?
William: I love you.)
(You just want to eat them up!!)
it was good food for the soul!
Keeping up with their energy and then adding hours of chemo to the mix has left me quite wiped. But the smiles and the hugs and fun memories and handsome Special Guest make it all worth living for.
Hopefully there are just a few more weeks of treatment! Keeping our fingers crossed.
 |
| Taylor and William (2 1/2 years old) enjoying the beach! |
 |
| Hailey (5 1/2 y.o.) laughing it up! |
 |
| Tried to get a little portrait ... This is Hailey's Zombie look ... then ... |
 |
| Two seconds later, they were wrestling! |
Platelets were good, hCG is still below 2. White and Red blood cell are apparently the correct shades of white and red. We're plugging along! Chris was my Special Friend today because he is off this week. It was fun to have him with me ... although I sleep most of the 7 hours away. I talk in the beginning, start slurring, then I'm out. Today I was talking to Kristin - I felt like we had a lot to catch up on - and my teeth started chattering. (Keep in mind we're in a 93 degree heat wave!) But the drugs make me chatter and I can no longer form normal words. That's when you know it's time to sleep. I was a pretty bad drooler today too! I apologize now to whoever has to use the blanket I used today. Plus, Chris brought me treats: including nubby donuts, Pringles and buttered popcorn. Let's just say the Barcalounger I was in today looks like a toddler had a temper tantrum in it. Very crumby food to eat and I left crumbs!
Between all the kid's hugs and kisses and conversations like this:
William: Aunt Mimi?
Mer: Yes, William?
William: Guess what?
Mer: What, kid?
William: I love you.)
(You just want to eat them up!!)
it was good food for the soul!
Keeping up with their energy and then adding hours of chemo to the mix has left me quite wiped. But the smiles and the hugs and fun memories and handsome Special Guest make it all worth living for.
Hopefully there are just a few more weeks of treatment! Keeping our fingers crossed.
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