Yeah, I know - me - a regular comedienne.......
I can feel the Benadryl hit me as they still have their thumb on the plunger of the syringe pushing it into the IV port. My tongue gets very slow, and my brain suddenly and immediately feels the *freedom* to pump out incredibly crazy funny stories that I would never tell otherwise.
It's the best thing about getting chemo. You get funny, you get a nap, and all is well for a couple of hours.
They again said that Wednesday, because as they were going over my online chart as I was getting ready to leave, they asked me if I were still taking my Ro pills three times a week. I said a long, slow-tongue, "yeah,,,,," then added unexpectedly even to me "I'm a Ro-Ho" and smiled really big.
It just kind of fell out of my mouth.
I've thought it a couple of times as I am pimping my body out to science and the Ro Study and all, but never said it out loud to them of all people, and in their hospital of all places.....
That kind of brought down the house.
*******
And then there's this.....
When Kristi was a little girl, and then when she was older as well, she would have very vivid dreams and then spent most of the morning telling me all - repeat all - about them. We joke about it now, but I could hem two pairs of pants and have three loads of laundry done by the time we talked and got them all worked out usually.
So today, she sent me this in a note. As your parlay into this, I should tell you that she worked as a "teacher/counselor" at Marysville State Prison for a few years.
"so, how are you feeling today? are Thursdays still "good days" or not? TWO MORE TREATMENTS LEFT!!! i had a dream last night that you were in prison and i kept trying to call your case manager to see when you were getting out, but then i finally just went to the prison to talk to someone about it. they brought you out and handed you a cupcake (I'm not lying about this! it was dripping with all the frosting) and told you that you had been paroled."
I cannot make some things up, but after getting into treatment Wednesday, I was indeed "paroled". So she may be a prophet after all.
*******
And that was all Wednesday night....... smile. Today, Friday morning, I am trying to remember how many years ago it was that Heidi gave me this wonderful red fuzzy warm robe with a much needed hood on it of all things, that is a little bit ratty and worn but oh so wonderful for mornings such as these - these carbo mornings that hit hard. Now, I am upright and walking a bit, snuggling down in a robe, taking my drugs, trying to get this fire out of my abdomen.
Two more treatments, and maybe more after surgery, but two more treatments for now. Maybe this is not a marathon so much as a triathlon - and I am nearing the end of the first phase.
***
That was all that I had for Friday ...... and now, continuing tonight - Saturday night. I am stepping down from the carbo-hurt some at last. My last carbo treatment four weeks ago was spent pinching myself as I was all prepared for the slam-down, but it wasn't so bad. I had the tiniest bit of hope that maybe this one would sneak by as well, but it didn't.
Friday morning it started it's cruel march through my system, and the road it carves with it's hateful fire ball through my abdomen is a lasting memory each time. I am willing to bet that I was the only woman in Ashland County covered with two down comforters and an extra blanket on top of those, chilling in bed the last 48 hours. There were a few hours I was up, and even outside a little thinking I was done, maybe even thinking I had cheated it a little, then that nasty taskmaster slashed his whip again my way, and I was back in bed for long stretches of time just trying to warm up and keep my innards in place.
Now, except for some *repairs* the next few days, it's over I think. Well, at least until it's final good-bye kiss fourteen days out - when my hemoglobin tanks every time.....
But right now, I can hear the birds outside, I can see all the gardening work Scott has done and appreciate the beauty of it all, and it is peaceful. And I don't think I want to ever meet carbo again. If I am needing chemo after surgery, carbo is not one of the choices, and I am ever so grateful.
*******
Chloe and Zoe were down this week and we all came to the realization that the porcelain ducks on the deck that have been their best springtime friends here for five years, need to be thrown out. Chloe and Zoe played with them when they themselves were little babies. They have mothered them, loved them, held them and even on cold days when they could not go out, adored them through the window.
Now, they're broken and breaking and getting "veery dangerous" to handle. So we agreed it was time to get rid of them before they hurt one of the younger, smaller granddaughters. They refer to their two younger cousins as "little", since they are five years of age now, and so much older.
And, they reminded me, that since they are older, they need to "watch out for them" - those "little" ones, and they do so diligently.
Beginning with pieces of broken porcelain off of their favorite deck objects. Because they might cut open Baby Evelyn's foot or something, so all of a sudden, while they are mourning the loss and remembering all of their years together, they are super diligent to get rid of the hazard.
I told them to bring them to me and we would say good-bye and put them in the garbage bag.
Big mis-step on Grandmum's part.
Zoe looked at me doggedly and said "you mean so we can bury them?"
Bury them? Porcelain ducks?
We have a week to pick out a proper spot while they are on vacation. Scott was somewhat surprised as well, then laughed hilariously and then conceded to a portion of his garden being used........
I plan to make a stick cross to put over their graves.
And then be somewhat ready to answer the 649 questions about ducks, nay porcelain ducks, going to heaven.
*******
So goes a week at Cinnamon Lake here folks......
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