I know that you know that! Hell, I know it, too! BUT, sometimes I forget it. Sometimes, when I am at work, busy and focused or just doing my job and having fun, it hits me. Literally, figuratively, and emotionally, it hits me and it takes my breath away. I have to shake my head or gasp for air. I try to be discreet, and I think I usually succeed, but the other day at work, I had to just let out a few sobs, pray that no one walks in, and then gather myself and move on. I really don't want do this at work. I really don't want to do this anywhere. I do not like green eggs and ham!
You know what! My FAMILY has cancer! That's really what this should be called! Faith bears the primary burden, but her illness affects us all, deeply. Everyday simple tasks take twice as long, minimally. Longer when we are carrying around a backpack of continuous flow IV fluids. I need to plan as though I have a baby again. Generally speaking, I can get showered and out the door in 30 minutes. Honest! This morning, I allowed an hour from the time I finished working out until I needed to be out the door and throw in the promise of Starbucks if we can manage to leave early. Plenty, right?!? Wrong! I finished and said, ok Faith, let's go upstairs to get ready. I will shower and you can take a bath. Washing first, lounging later. "Mom, I have to pee". We'll do it upstairs. "It can't wait" (insert appropriate dancing, wiggling, stressed face look). Sigh, Ok. Let's go quickly and then head upstairs. There's no quickly. Crutches, IV backpack, move the dog then hobble back out. We finally get upstairs, I get the water started and begin to tell her to run to get her clothes. She stares at me. Ok, fine, I'll go get your clothes, then I will be right back to help you into the tub. We both finally emerge, bathed, dressed, I braid her hair (what's left of it), and note that we are at 40 minutes now, but we are still upstairs. I am killing my average, but we are still within the hour grace period. I stand in front of her as we meander down the stairs and head straight for the garage. She is no help to me loading stuff up, so might as well load her up. Now, here's where you should have had candid camera. The terms monkey and football come to mind *wink*. Faith is settled securely in the car, it's running and the radio is blaring. Ok, she's clearly happy! At least I won't forget her (you think I'm joking)! I run into the house, glance around.to assess what items need to packed. I grab my laptop bag and Faith's backpack and run into the garage. Do you want water, Faith? Back inside, Faith's water cup, a handful of bracelets to give the nurses, the bag of fluids and tubing for this afternoon's switch to the backpack. Oh yeah, fliers for the Arby's Benefit night. Garage. Back inside, my purse and the wheelchair. Shit, I just forgot one more thing. I think I got it all. Garage. Where's the damn wheelchair?!? It's in the front flipping yard! How could I forget the break? How embarrassing! I look around as casually and cooly as I can and say a silent thank you to the heaven's that no one was driving by that saw me as the responsible person! Maybe they will think it was a family member who was helping out let the runaway wheelchair down the drive. One can only hope!
Finally, we are backing out. I am 15 minutes past my scheduled departure time, which, in all honesty, puts me still slightly early for our appointment. But I wanted to be EARLY, you get there early, you start early and, subsequently end early. I wanted it to be smooth, and chill. Well, Faith is chill and cool, as she has been sitting in the car without complaining for the last 15 minutes. "Mom, can we still get Starbucks on the way" Sure. Life is short, we'll make it, baby!
At least this week of Faith's out-patient chemo has been really good! It's been almost like nothing was wrong. Fall Break was perfectly timed. Breaks usually consist of shuffling kids here there and everywhere to try to manage work with kids at home. We would try to trade off, you know like you take my kids Monday, and I'll take your kid Thursday type of deal. Everyday was something new, but the four of us usually ended up at home to have dinner together. That's how this week has been. Grandma took Faith Tuesday, Uncle Scott and Chandler took Wednesday, and I have today and tomorrow. We have had dinner together every night! Nice! Faith has tolerated the treatment well, too. No real side affects to report! Extra nice!
You know what! My FAMILY has cancer! That's really what this should be called! Faith bears the primary burden, but her illness affects us all, deeply. Everyday simple tasks take twice as long, minimally. Longer when we are carrying around a backpack of continuous flow IV fluids. I need to plan as though I have a baby again. Generally speaking, I can get showered and out the door in 30 minutes. Honest! This morning, I allowed an hour from the time I finished working out until I needed to be out the door and throw in the promise of Starbucks if we can manage to leave early. Plenty, right?!? Wrong! I finished and said, ok Faith, let's go upstairs to get ready. I will shower and you can take a bath. Washing first, lounging later. "Mom, I have to pee". We'll do it upstairs. "It can't wait" (insert appropriate dancing, wiggling, stressed face look). Sigh, Ok. Let's go quickly and then head upstairs. There's no quickly. Crutches, IV backpack, move the dog then hobble back out. We finally get upstairs, I get the water started and begin to tell her to run to get her clothes. She stares at me. Ok, fine, I'll go get your clothes, then I will be right back to help you into the tub. We both finally emerge, bathed, dressed, I braid her hair (what's left of it), and note that we are at 40 minutes now, but we are still upstairs. I am killing my average, but we are still within the hour grace period. I stand in front of her as we meander down the stairs and head straight for the garage. She is no help to me loading stuff up, so might as well load her up. Now, here's where you should have had candid camera. The terms monkey and football come to mind *wink*. Faith is settled securely in the car, it's running and the radio is blaring. Ok, she's clearly happy! At least I won't forget her (you think I'm joking)! I run into the house, glance around.to assess what items need to packed. I grab my laptop bag and Faith's backpack and run into the garage. Do you want water, Faith? Back inside, Faith's water cup, a handful of bracelets to give the nurses, the bag of fluids and tubing for this afternoon's switch to the backpack. Oh yeah, fliers for the Arby's Benefit night. Garage. Back inside, my purse and the wheelchair. Shit, I just forgot one more thing. I think I got it all. Garage. Where's the damn wheelchair?!? It's in the front flipping yard! How could I forget the break? How embarrassing! I look around as casually and cooly as I can and say a silent thank you to the heaven's that no one was driving by that saw me as the responsible person! Maybe they will think it was a family member who was helping out let the runaway wheelchair down the drive. One can only hope!
Finally, we are backing out. I am 15 minutes past my scheduled departure time, which, in all honesty, puts me still slightly early for our appointment. But I wanted to be EARLY, you get there early, you start early and, subsequently end early. I wanted it to be smooth, and chill. Well, Faith is chill and cool, as she has been sitting in the car without complaining for the last 15 minutes. "Mom, can we still get Starbucks on the way" Sure. Life is short, we'll make it, baby!
At least this week of Faith's out-patient chemo has been really good! It's been almost like nothing was wrong. Fall Break was perfectly timed. Breaks usually consist of shuffling kids here there and everywhere to try to manage work with kids at home. We would try to trade off, you know like you take my kids Monday, and I'll take your kid Thursday type of deal. Everyday was something new, but the four of us usually ended up at home to have dinner together. That's how this week has been. Grandma took Faith Tuesday, Uncle Scott and Chandler took Wednesday, and I have today and tomorrow. We have had dinner together every night! Nice! Faith has tolerated the treatment well, too. No real side affects to report! Extra nice!
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