Sunday, December 14, 2014

Dang side ponytail.

I felt well enough to go to Micah's little Christmas program at school on Friday.  To my utter surprise, he actually sang all the songs!  My boys, historically, have a hard time singing in things such as this.  Like for the Primary Program every fall (which is, by the way, my favorite sacrament meeting of the whole year - so hilarious!!!), Dylan kind of lip-syncs.  And barely moves his mouth. Micah just stares blankly out at the audience.

But not this time!  I think maybe it's because the songs were about the holidays.  Micah is a holiday fanatic.  Decorating for them, counting down to them....that's what he's all about.  That's the only thing I can figure.

I had the hardest time getting a good angle for photos.  There was a girl in front of him with this ENORMOUS high side ponytail with this HUGE red scrunchy in it, and she was just a teeny bit to his right - enough to make that ponytail be right in front of his face.  I did my best, but I was like, dude.  Note to self.  Never make high hair for Sadie for any of her school recitals.  So that she doesn't block some poor bloke's face.

I made my way to the other side of the gym, tripping over people, ducking, etc., and eventually got a kind of decent shot of him:


Saturday, December 13, 2014

Ohhh the Poohish.

My BFF, Pooh, came up a few days ago, originally, go to chemo with me and to kind of nurse me and give my mom a break.  But my docs wanted me to have a few more healing days under my belt before they hit me with my final chemo, so I don't go in until Monday.  It's a bittersweet situation. It's been nice to have a few more days to climb out of the chasm of illness I was in, but I also wanted to get the dang thing done.  But it was just so much fun to feel well enough to spend quality time with my lifelong friend and catch up and chit-chat and kind of...heal each other.  Like best friends do.

We did some stuff - a little bit of eating out, a little bit of movie-watching, a lot of laughing...  It was great.  It took us like 17 tries to get this selfie to come out kind of okay:
Oooh, ooh, and I felt good enough to teach ballet on Wednesday, and she came and watched (and took a photo for me):
I'm gonna miss these girls so much.  It was my last time teaching them!!  I'll be too sick next week, the following week is Christmas, and then I'm gone... I got all of their last names, though, and many promises were made to friend each other on Facebook.

Last night, while we were out to eat, I tried to do a photobomb on a picture of my son, but it looks instead that I'm wanting to take a bite out of him:
We also got our crafting on.  Pooh is not a crafter, but I help her in her urges to have the finished crafting project.  We painted a big letter B to put in her living room (her last name starts with a B). She was very nervous, but it turned out really cute.  And then she helped me glue some stuff onto my Christmas cards.  I'm seriously unsure about my ability to get them finished and out in time for Christmas this year.  If not, hey, next year's cards will be ready, right??  Cancer makes you realize priorities.  Is it a big deal if my Christmas cards don't get sent out this year?  Nope.  All that matters is that I'm alive and that I get to be with my family again.

Oh, and a little interesting side note - my poor mother has, once again, caught a bug, which, once again, seems to have entered my system.  This is another coughing bug.  Which I can handle.  It's the stomach bug that I cannot do again.  It's uncanny - for the last three rounds of chemo, she gets sick right before I go in.  And then I go in, my immune system gets killed, and I get her illness, but ten times worse.  I'm popping the echinacea and vitamin C like nobody's business, but.... I don't know how much it will help.  I told my mom that her immune system is shot, too, if she keeps getting sick every three weeks!!!  We have taken every precaution; it's just been...unfortunate.  We're unlucky ladies.  Wish me luck.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Okay. I'm back.

You guys, I am so sorry for not having posted in so long.  But DUDE.  I have never, ever been as sick as I was the past few weeks.

The thing is, it's not just the chemo side effects, which by themselves are horrific.  But now it's to the point where my immune system is so ineffective that I catch every single little bug floating around. We have been so careful.  We've kept me quarantined.  We use face masks.  We disinfect every dang thing.  We are hand sanitizer maniacs.  And yet, I keep catching these horrible bugs.

If you remember, my fourth round of chemo had me fighting bronchitis.  This fifth round involved another head cold (somehow my body fought it off before it turned into bronchitis again), which had me coughing so hard that I was vomiting.

The worst bug I caught this time, though, was The Intestinal Flu from Hell.  We're talking the violence of food poisoning.  Have any of you guys had food poisoning??  Oh my word.  It's awful.  It's nightmarish.  It has you wishing you were dead.  "Death is okay by me!" (What movie?)  And I had this flu that was just that violent, FOR SEVEN DAYS.

I went in for IV fluids and tests the first four days, and everything indicated that this was "just" a virus.  Yet it wasn't going away, and my body was expelling any form of fluid, IV or otherwise, just as quickly as they put it in me.  I was on the floor of the bathroom for four days.  Because being anywhere else was too far to travel and get there in time, if you know what I mean.  I was crying, crying, crying. But without tears.  Because I was that dehydrated.  I had to wear Depends.  Which are actually quite comfortable.  I'm a fan.  Because they kept me from soiling my pants.

When you're dehydrated, you start vomiting violently.  So that started happening, too.  I had been drinking, drinking, drinking clear fluids, but I couldn't keep anything down.

Eventually, in the worst part of it, I couldn't drink.  My body wouldn't let me drink.  I knew I had to, but...it was weird.  My mom kept trying to get me to drink, and I just couldn't.

Of course, we were in contact with my oncologist or his PA's every day.  They sent me to the ER one night for fluids.  They sent me to a local instacare twice for fluids.  They recommended Immodium (which did NOTHING for me, which was weird).

Finally, I decided to go to the hospital in a neighboring city, because that's where these doctors are based, and they had no idea how serious this was.  All of these different places were doing tests, but they weren't sending the test results to my oncologist, and my oncologist wasn't contacting these places to get results.  Or to even see how I was doing.

I'm not going to lie, I'm still pretty miffed at my oncologist.  I know he's busy.  But I could have DIED, you guys.  My potassium levels were dangerously low.  The hospital nurses told me that's why severe dehydration kills people - low potassium levels.  I felt that my doc, and his PA's, didn't care, or didn't care to know, what I was dealing with here.

So I recruited my dad to drive me to this city - it's only half an hour away.  By darn it, I was going to see my doctor.  Not some random ER doc.  Not some random instacare doc.  HIM.  And the reason I recruited my dad is because I needed a bulldog.  Dad can get stuff done.  I'm jealous of his feistiness. For reals.  I have a hard time getting up in peoples' faces when it needs to happen.

So we got up there to the hospital, and basically, I demanded to be admitted.  And I demanded to see my oncologist.  The ER doc was all, "Oh, we'll call the PA who is on call..." and my dad was like, "Nope.  You're going to get a hold of her oncologist.  And he will come and see her.  Tonight.  Or I will find his house and knock on his door."  The ER doc was like, "Well, alrighty then."  But I am a fan of him, because he called all of these places I had been to and gathered all the test results and information to give to my oncologist.

So my oncologist showed up, saw the results of the tests, realized how truly ill I had been, and said, "I'm not letting you leave for at least three days."  And I told him, "Oh, I'm not leaving until this crap [get it?] is GONE.  If it takes 20 days."

So I stayed there for three days, and it was a nice hospital.  My nurses were attentive.  I had continuous IV drip the whole time, as well as a heart and oxygen monitor. Look - I'm that girl from The Fault in our Stars!
 See what I was doing there?
I just needed Ben to be upside-down next to me.  And we would both need hair...

And here is my glowing heart and oxygen monitor:
It was BRIGHT.  I had to tuck my hand under a pillow to sleep.  And if I moved in my sleep and my hand came popping out, LAAAAAA!  This bright, glowing fingertip woke me up.

This reminded me of the theme song from Goldfinger, one of my fave Bond movies.  I was so bored in my bed in the hospital that I changed the lyrics.  Do you want to hear them?  Of course you do!

RedddddddFINGA!  She's the woman...
The woman with the ruby touch
A cherry's touch
Such a bright FINGA!
Beckons you to enter her hospital room...
Please come on innnnnn....

Thank you very much.  I'll be here all week.

I was also on a potassium drip for the first two days.  Each little potassium IV bag was worth a box full of bananas, they told me.  They gave me some pretty powerful stuff for my...ah...dysentery, wink wink.  It would work for awhile, and then, well, the floodgates would open again.  Finally, one of the PA's (I got a daily visit from the PA's, but I didn't ever see my doctor again.  Sigh....) was like, "All of the tests show that this is a virus.  But I want to try antibiotics and just see.  Maybe you have a bacterial infection that didn't show up in our tests."  I was willing to try anything.

Whether it was the antibiotics or the virus finally running its course, I was able to leave the hospital Friday.  Though things still aren't completely back to normal, they're manageable and much better.

Except I got a UTI on Monday.  So now I'm on antibiotics for that, as well.  Three antibiotics total, currently.

I'm supposed to do chemo tomorrow, but only after I have a visit with the doctor and he feels that my body can handle it.  I feel...not strong, certainly, but not in the throes of devastating illness, either. Emotionally, I want to hit this thing hard.  Like a football player that's running with the ball and hits his helmet into the gut of a defender, which I have learned is against the rules.  (I have been watching a lot of football with my dad these past four months.  I've become quite a fan of it.  And I get it a little bit more.  And I mean just a little bit.  It's so complicated...  I am a huge fan of the Packers.  They are amazeballs!)

I just want to get the darn thing done, you guys.  But if the doc doesn't think I'm ready, they'll have to postpone it to Monday, to give me a few more days to heal.  We'll see.

There is also a lot of fear associated with this round - what will I catch next?  Bubonic plague? Cholera?  Smallpox?  You are left so defenseless.

Spiritually, round number five was tough.  It's really, really hard to continue to say, "Thy will be done," when you legitimately feel like you're dying.  When you beg for help, and the help doesn't come immediately, but you really do need immediate help, that's tough.  It's tough to say, "Heavenly Father answers us on his timetable.  Sometimes the answer is yes, sometimes the answer is no, and sometimes the answer is 'wait'" when you're crying on the bathroom floor for the fourth day in a row. It's hard to wait for the blessings promised in a priesthood blessing when you're vomiting so hard that you pull your diaphragm muscle (not kidding about that).

I have to admit that I felt a little...angry...at Heavenly Father.  Which I'm repenting of.  I've never been mad at Him, throughout all of this cancer process.  But something about an immediate, ongoing, life-threatening illness really pushes you to very dark places.  And I also have to admit that my faith in Him faltered a little bit.  Not that He exists and knows all things, but...that he would save me.  I feel really guilty about having these feelings.

But as I think about this concept of a child being mad at her Father, I think about my own kids.  There are times when they're really mad at me.  But I know, as their mother, what is best.  No, Micah, you cannot use a knife.  You'll get hurt.  No, Dylan, you can't play iPad for 20 hours a day.  It's not healthy for you.  No, Sadie, you can't play until you clean your room.  You need to learn responsibility.  We all have to enforce things or disallow things, because we're older and we see the bigger picture and we want what's best for our kids.  And when they're mad at me for these things, I shake my head in frustration, but I don't take it personally.  I just say, "They don't get it.  Eventually, they will."  I've got to hope that Heavenly Father is that same way with us.  Being angry at Him isn't a good thing, but I'm repenting.  And He will forgive me.  Gladly.  Because He's perfect.

Another thing I've been thinking a lot about is the First Presidency Christmas devotional that aired on Sunday.  Elder Christofferson said something that really resounded with me.  Now, I know that Christ atoned for our sins so that we could repent and be forgiven and have a chance to live with He and Heavenly Father, right?  I also know that he suffered our pain, emotional and physical, so that he could know how to succor us - send us help - in the way we need.  I also know that going through trials makes us more sympathetic and kind to others, as well as helping us to grow and learn.  But that sympathy part really hit home for me when Elder Christofferson said that, like Christ, we too go through pain and suffering so that we can succor others who encounter the same difficulty.  I guess I've never thought about it in that way.  Because I've had breast cancer and have been going through chemo, I'll know how to help anyone in my neighborhood, circle of friends, acquaintanceship, or ward who goes through it.  I'll know exactly what things help and what things really don't help.  I'll know exactly what she needs.  I'll know exactly what to say.  Because I've literally been there.  So this is a chance, really, to prepare to serve others in the future.

So.  That's where things sit right now.  Physically, I'm doing...okay.  Weak, but okay.  Spiritually, I'm repenting.  And also very, very grateful that Heavenly Father helped me and spared me.  Emotionally, I'm ready to get this last round DONE.  So I don't ever, ever again have to say, "I still have such-and-such more chemo sessions to do."  I think that, once I'm done with this one, even if I get really sick again, I'll have hope.  I'll have the ability to say, "I'll get better.  I won't get knocked down ever again. From here on out is nothing but healing."

That will be a great feeling.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

I retract my former statement.


Not too long ago, I told you that cancer/chemo wasn't the worst thing I had ever gone through.

I've changed my stance on that. Chemo, specifically, without a doubt, is the worst thing I have ever, in 37 years, encountered. It has brought me to my knees.  It has me begging Heavenly Father for mercy.

Please pray for me.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Harsh Times

Do you remember that movie that came out a few years ago?  Harsh Times?  I didn't watch it, but I thought it was the dumbest title of a movie, like, ever.  It was supposed to be a war movie or something, but what it sounds like is the movie title for Clueless 2.  Alicia Silverstone's character says "harsh" all the time in Clueless:

Ty:  Why am I talking to you about this?  You're a virgin who can't drive.
Cher:  [Tears pooling in her eyes]  Ohhh, that was harsh, Ty.


Picture it on the marquee:  Clueless 2 - Harsh Times.

Maybe Cher and her ex-step-brother realize that their relationship is really weird, and they break up, thereby having the harsh times.  Maybe Cher's dad gets thrown in jail and Cher has to pay off all his debts and then be poor.  That would give her the harsh times.  The possibilities are endless, really.

Anywho, I'm so sorry I haven't updated in awhile.  The  main reason I haven't is that I've felt truly horrible.  It's been three weeks since my last chemo (I go in tomorrow - blahhhhh), and I've had really awful side effects clear until, like, yesterday.  A LOT of them I can't talk about on here.  I do have some sense of appropriateness.

Mainly.

I did confide some of the grossness to a journalist the other day...

It's a long story.  In a nutshell, she's doing a story on this camp that my kids went to last summer - Camp Kesem - and she wanted to interview me.  She asked me lots of stuff, on and off the record (she would turn on and off her cell phone recording device accordingly), and one of the off-the-record things she asked about was what my side effects are.  I mentioned things that are okay to mention in public and then vaguely told her that there were some other, really gross, really scary side effects, as well - things that made me so scared that I cried and cried.  For realsies.  She really, really wanted to know the nitty-gritty.  So, off the record, I told her.  She handled it well.  She actually started crying... and then I started crying...  Haha!  I appreciated her sympathy tears.  I did.

I've told you about my bronchitis (I'm still coughing, but not as badly.  I think the worst of it has passed).  I can tell you about my low blood pressure.  It's crayyyyy not to be able to function at normal capacity.  Going up the stairs winds me for a few minutes.  Every time I stand up from sitting down or lying down, I have to grab some furniture and wait for the dizziness to pass.  I taught ballet last Wednesday, and it just about killed me.  I really wanted to finish up a grand allegro (big leaps) combination we'd been working on a couple of weeks before.  I had to show them a few different jumps in this combo, and dude, I couldn't jump.  I tried so hard.  I'd plie and squeeze my butt cheeks and try so hard, and...nada.  So I had to show them the moves by lifting myself onto the barre and showing them what their feet do in the air.  So sad.  A few of them were having trouble remembering the combination, so I'd do it with them.  I'd say "do it with them" is a bit of an overstatement.  More like stumbling around and trying not to fall.

Chemo also affects your balance - I've read that in pamphlets.  And I can feel that when I'm trying to teach slow, sustained, balanced movements.  My balance is just SHOT.  We were doing a simple reverance on Wednesday and I almost fell right on my butt.

I overdid it so much last Wednesday that I couldn't teach Thursday.  And that's another thing - you have to really conserve your energy.  For instance, I went to spinning with my dad Monday (don't worry - I kept my heart rate below 150), and then I did the stationary bike and weights with my mom yesterday (I couldn't lift as much weight as her, and she's 60 years old).  Neither workout really even induced any sweat.  They were very low-key.  And yet last night, I felt like I had been hit by a truck.  I think it was from the exercise.  It's weird, going from being such an active person to having to be a couch potato.  It's really frustrating.  I just have to keep telling myself, "But you're going to live.  That's all that matters.  You're going to emerge from this."

Oh, and a dude did a hit-and-run on my SUV.  Luckily, I wasn't in my car when it was hit.  I was inside, at my friend's house.  On a residential street.  But this guy must have been booking it, and I think he had a really big, jacked-up truck. Because when he ran into my car, he pushed the right rear bumper clear up onto the sidewalk (flattening my tire) and the left driver's side clear out into the road.  The left back is crunched pretty hard.  We have a $500 deductible.  Boo-yah.  Spending money on fixing cars is fun.  We called the police and he did some investigative work - he thinks it's a big truck, blue (his truck left blue marks amidst the crunchiness that is the back of my car right now).  From the tracks in the snow, the officer deduced that the truck hit the breaks to stop for a stop sign a couple of car lengths in front of my car, and he slid into my car.  And then backed up and drove off.

So yeah, kind of a bummer of a week.  But it's okay.  Here's a silver lining - when we first got our SUV four or five years ago, I immediately (and accidentally) backed up into a light post at the end of my parents' driveway.  That light post is a serious hazard.  I remain resolute on my opinion of that.  At any rate, it left this...well, incision.  I can't think of a better word for it.  Because I can't think of words.  It seriously looks like someone got an exacto blade and sliced it up and down.  We haven't ever had money to fix it, so there it's been for all of these years.  Well, the silver lining is that we are getting a whole new bumper.  Incision gone.  That's nice. Now if we could just get the driver's side heatie seatie button fixed...wish we could claim that as part of the accident:  "But officer, the impact of the hit-and-run must have jiggled my heatie seatie button loose, thus tragically taking away my ability to warm my tooshie in these frigid temperatures!"

The real reason that button is loose somewhere in the ether of behind-the-dashboard is because my oldest children were fighting over who could sit in the front seat one day.  I was grabbing Gage and Micah and my purse and all that crap while they ran out into the car.  Things got physical (My kids?  Naw...) and they somehow, someway, hit that button, and it fell backwards behind the dashboard.  End of warm tooshie for me.

For the record, they were both grounded.  Tooshie warmth is of utmost importance to me.

So, to offset the bummerishness of this post, let me show you what I saw at Sam's Club with my mom yesterday.  While we were there for like three hours.  I'll let you in on a little secret:  my mom is the slowest shopper I have ever met.  Even slower than Ben.  And that's saying something.  My motto with any kind of shopping is "Get in, get done, get out."  So it's hard for me to walk around with meandering shoppers.  I love her to death.  I love Ben to death.  It's just a fact that they're slow shoppers.  It's a quirk.  And we all know how many hundreds of quirks I have.

Anywho, we saw this toy:


Who on God's green earth wants a doll that magically poops charms???  It ain't right, you guys.  It just ain't right.  Notice that you can collect the charms once they've been defacated from the doll's bottom.  And apparently make a bracelet out of said defacated charms.  Normally I'm a La-La-Loopsy fan, but this is really pushing the envelope for me.

Kay, so...chemo is tomorrow.  Wish me luck.  I keep having these daydreams that the doc will say, "You know what?  You've done enough.  You're finished.  Congratulations."  OR that he'll say, "You know, your blood pressure is too low.  We need to put your chemo off for another week."  But that wouldn't necessarily be a good thing, because then it would put off my ability to get up to Bend after Christmas.  Still, another week of recovery would do me a lot of good, dude.  Usually, at this time, I'm fully recovered and ready to take on another round.  This one - this one is different.  I haven't climbed out of the hole from the last one.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Chemo Brain!

Have I told you guys about Chemo Brain yet?  Probably.  I first heard of it when someone was telling me I should call her friend who had just finished chemo.  She said that she'd tell her friend that I was calling, but because of her friend's Chemo Brain, she might not remember who I was when I called her.

And let me just apologize really quickly about this - in the past few months, I've probably had...maybe 20 people offer this to me - they give me their friend's/aunt's/grandma's/cousin's number, saying, "Hey, my ____________ has gone through this; they can offer you some good advice."  And I've meant to call them; I really have.  It's just that...I get soooo overwhelmed.  I'm on the phone sooooooooo much with friends and family and insurance and doctor's offices already.  I think I'm kind of tapped out on phone usage.  So I just want to apologize to you if you've offered me the help of a friend and if I haven't called them yet.  I had this cute lady in my parents' ward who gave me the number of one of her co-workers who's just starting on chemo; she wants me to call this lady and give her encouragement/advice, and I'm really hesitant to do so.  If this lady is anything like me, she wants the phone to just freaking stop ringing.  You know what I mean?  I don't know.  Maybe I'll just text her and say, "Hey, I'm your coworker's acquaintance.  I'm almost done with chemo [which is a huge overstatement, probably.  Two chemos left does not an "almost done" make...], and if you need any advice or insight into the process, just call me."  I just really don't want to annoy the poor gal.

Kay.  So.  Back to what I was talking about.  When I read that this girl had this Chemo Brain thing and forgot stuff all the time, I was, of course, alarmed.  I thought, Not only is this stuff going to poison my body and make me feel really sick and horrible, but it will affect my BRAIN FUNCTION??

  
Unfortunately, Chemo Brain is very, very real.  I mean, I don't know if you'll read about it in scientific journals or whatever.  But in my experience, and in many chemo patients' experiences, yep, it's real.  And yep, it's sad.  I mean, it's not horrible, but mainly, your short-term memory is just shot. I can't remember the names of my ballet students.  I try so hard, but it's just taking longer than it would ordinarily have taken to remember.  When I show them an exercise we're going to do, I often forget it, so I have to keep a little notebook with me to glance at.  I have to write every single solitary thing I want to do on my calendar, or I'm so screwed.  I've missed two wedding receptions and a funeral because of my stupid Chemo Brain.

The nurses who work with me refer to it all the time.  I'll say, "Oh, I meant to get you this or that information, but I forgot," and they'll shrug and cheerfully say, "Chemo Brain!"

I also forget words.  Nouns, mainly.  Simple words.  Like the other night, I was FaceTiming with Ben.  BT Dubs, I'm starting to kind of hate FaceTime, because the screen shows me in up the corner, and I hate that I have to look at myself, because I look like a hard-boiled egg.  Also, for several days after chemo, my neck and face are poofy.  It's sooo butt ugly.  My eyebrows are quickly thinning. My eyelashes are also thinning rapidly.  I just look...not so great.  And I know that beauty is inside and all that crap.  I do.  And I believe it.  But I also know that if you don't feel decent on the outside, you feel a little bummed out.  Like when you see a picture of yourself, and you're like, "Wait, I look like that???"  Man, that sucks.  You think, "Well, I have a little spare tire, but I look alright!"  And then you see pictures.  And then you get depressed.  And then you ask your friend to photoshop those pictures for you.

Sorry, tangent.  So anyways, when Ben and I were FaceTiming the other night, here was our conversation:

Me:  Dude, I look so gross.  I'm so sick of looking like an egg.

Ben:  We should call you cue ball!  You just need a little black dot on your forehead.

Me:  A black dot?  What are you talking about?

Ben:  Cue balls have a black dot on them.  Like a target.

Me:  No, they don't.

Ben:  Yes, they do.

Me:  I mean, sometimes they have little blue smudges on them from the chalk you use...

Ben:  No, they're manufactured with a black dot.

Me:  I think you're thinking of the black dot on the table.

Ben:  No, I'm thinking the white cue ball.  With a black dot on it.

Me:  Dude, trust me.  My grandma and grandpa had a....a....  Um, okay, one of those tables.  That's covered in green felt.  You know, it has holes in the corners and sides?  And you use those.....sticks? You know, the long sticks that you kind of....aim at the cue ball?  And you hit the cue ball, and it hits another ball, and that ball goes into one of the holes?

Ben:  ...A pool table?

Me:  Yes!  Yes!  A pool table!  So I should know.  Cue balls don't have black dots on them.

Ben:  [Doubtful silence.  I'm sure he was thinking to himself, She does not know what she's talking about with the cue ball, since she can't even remember that a pool table is called a pool table...]

We agreed to disagree.  Which, by the way, is one of our Marriage Strengths.  We're lovers, not fighters.


Addendum:  Um, okay, so after having googled images for "cue ball," I found that we're both right. Some are plain.  Some have little red dots on them, some have little black stars on them...  So that settles that.

Oooh, oooh, two pieces of information that you may or may not care about:  

1)  I got bronchitis.  From a cold my mom had.  We were so careful, you guys.  The poor woman wore a mask for like four days.  We sanitized everything.  We stayed away from each other.  But I got it.  And it very quickly turned into bronchitis.  I felt really, really awful.  I couldn't even sit up.  It required so much energy.  I just lay around for like 5 days.  But then I went to the doctor yesterday and got the official diagnosis of bronchitis, and they gave me an antibiotic, and BOY HOWDY.  I feel like a million bucks.  I felt this when I got an antibiotic after I got thrush, way back after my first chemo.  As soon as that antibiotic did its thing, I could feel an enormous difference.  And I was so peppy and energetic!  It makes such a huge difference for those of us with low white blood cell counts.  So I feel really good today!!  So grateful for the good days.

2)  My left boob has finally "dropped."  That there is pregnancy-talk, isn't it?  If you recall, Leftie was too high and wouln't soften and drop.  It finally did.  So now my boobs are even.  Do you know how awesome it is to have two boobs that are even???  So grateful for even boobs.

Monday, November 10, 2014

First Love Letter

My ornery dear son has an admirer.  She gave him a love letter the other day:

Very passionate stuff.  I love it.  I also love that she says he is her friend "four ever."

He had ZERO idea that this was a love letter.  Um, because he doesn't read very well.  Actually it's been a couple of weeks since he got the letter, and I see daily improvements.  So I think he could read it now if he wanted to.  He's started picking out words when we're out and about - "Mom, this button for the seatbelt says 'Press!'"  And sometimes, if I'm reading the newspaper, he'll try to read some of the words in the headlines.  I'm glad.  We've worked our tooshies off trying to help him.

Anyways, the girl's name is Harleigh - interesting, right? - and she gave him her phone number on the back of this paper.  I was impressed.  I don't think Micah knows my cell number (which functions as our home number).  Oh, I have failed him in so many ways...

I'll have to call Miss Harleigh's mom and arrange a playdate sometime soon.

I was planning to ignore the lovey parts of the message.  I told him how cool it was that he had a good friend and how glad I was that I had her number so we could arrange playdates.  My mom was the one who clued him in on the contents.  She asked if Harleigh was his girlfriend, etc.

I thought he would get really embarrassed (which is why I had skirted around the issue), but he was cool as a cucumber.  "No, Gwamma, we're just fwiends.  She's not my girlfwiend."  And that was it. No blushing, no stammering, no embarrassment.  I was impressed with his panache in the situation.  I would have done all of the above - the blushing, the stammering, the embarrassment, the hot denial... It's fun (and sometimes excruciating) to see the differences between my children and me.  
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