It's been a hard day's night.

Hard day.  Hard, hard day.

Ben left this morning to drive to Bend in his crappy truck. (Yes, by some miracle, he made it there.) He starts work tomorrow. I'm so excited for him, but when I'm without him, I don't know. I do okay, but the world is a harder place without him here. He's my partner. We drag each other along in life. We love each other. He is my best friend. And now he's gone. When I need him most.

My youngest child is in Chicago with my youngest sister for a whole month. She is a physical therapist, and all her BFF's are speech therapists, occupational therapists, etc. She wanted to find a way to help and offered to take Gage home with her, hoping to get in some really good therapy for the next little while. I'm so happy for him. He's getting such quality, one-on-one interaction. He's had more fun in the last few days with his auntie than he's probably had in the past year with his mommy. I know this was a good choice for him.

But today was his 4th birthday. And I wasn't even there with him. I miss him so much that my chest hurts. Oh wait. That's from getting my boobs chopped off.

I found out Friday that there is a free camp for the children of cancer victims. A free sleep away camp for a week. There are kids there who have had a parent die of cancer. Some kids with a parent in remission. Some whose parents are in the heat of the battle. Some whose parents are in the beginning stages and more or less shell-shocked. (I would be in that group.) The camp is called Camp Kesem. There are sessions held all around the nation. Idaho's camp is "near Ketchum." I'll explain why I put that in quotes in a sec.

All three of my oldest children were able to go, and after much debate and a few phone calls, my kids were in. Dyl and Micah were a little trepidatious about it, but Sadie, of course, couldn't contain her
excitement. I just really, really felt this would be so good for them. They'll get the support they need. They can talk about their feelings. They'll never be without their counselers. This camp is gorgeous, you guys. Just like the camp in the original Parent Trap. With these cool, clean cabins. And on this gorgeous lake where they'll swim and canoe. I'm actually a little bit jealous! And it is completely free. Amazeballs.

So my sister, mom, and I took them over today. It was supposed to take 3 hours. It took us 5 1/2 hours. Micah has the smallest bladder this side of the Pecos. We stopped at Craters if the Moon to stare at the dismal landscape and walk around for awhile. We stopped to eat ridiculously overpriced pizza in Hailey. And it took an hour and a half to drive the 40 miles from Ketchum to this camp. Winding, tiny passes without shoulders. The speed limit was literally 30 mph most of the time. It was torture.

And I wanted to help drive, so I tried using Tylenol instead of Percocet today.

It didn't go well.

I wasn't, like, grunting in pain, but there was an edge to it that made coping with driving harrowing passes and never ending fields of lava rock a little more difficult.

We dropped the kids off, and I did fine until I got home. It's just me and Pepper McGee. After I took the poor girl out to pee and fed her, I got into the shower. While attempting to wash myself, I accidentally dropped one of my blood-draining grenades, and the heaviness of it ripped at my skin where it goes into my enormous lat, and I swore and then cried really, really hard. And not just
because if the blood grenade thing.

Because I'm here without my family. I thought I would relish the time alone. But I hate it. They mean
the world to me. I mean, I'll pick up the older kids Friday (another day spent entirely in the car!
Hooray!), so it's not a big whoop. And I think if I wasn't facing he daunting task of packing and cleaning the house, oh yeah, and the little matter of starting chemo, I'd be fine. I just feel...very alone.

And I know I'm not alone. I'm never alone. Heavenly Father is watching over me. He'll have to carry me through much of this. It's just - bad timing, I guess. Really bad timing.