Last year as we braced for Hurricane Irene, I worried that a tree would fall on the house. One did fall, a big one, right between the house and Brian's shed. It was sad to see a beautiful healthy tree fall, but we were thankful that it fell in a perfect spot. This year, I still worry about the swaying trees, but I'm also thinking about chemo.
My second treatment is scheduled for this Wednesday, Halloween. Annabel has a costume party in her classroom that morning, and since Brian will join me at Dana-Farber, we will both have to miss it. Sean will join Annabel and the other moms and dads at the party. At first, it made my heart ache to think that I'd miss her party for my infusion. But I have come around to being fine with it. I'll be there for our neighborhood party and trick-or-treating at night and Annabel is so lucky to have her Uncle Sean, and even others who would have backed up Sean if he couldn't make it. She will love his company and I will welcome my Allies once again, this time thinking about Annabel's beaming smile when she sees Un-coe Sean enter her classroom.
As I've explained before, I haven't been great about following the news from my cancer cocoon. But since I heard about this hurricane, I've watched the weather closely. Because I don't want anything to get in the way of my appointments on Wednesday. I got so scared thinking that something could, because I really feel like I need those medicines. Oddly enough, I really feel like I need them because in the last few days, I have felt good. No nausea, no hot flashes, no heart burn, and even my embarrassing issues have cleared themselves up (thanks to Senokot-S). I've gotten used to my screwy taste buds and my tongue feeling like sandpaper. But as the symptoms have subsided, a crazy thing has happened. I've started to miss them.
I remember a similar thing happened when I was pregnant -- when I didn't feel well, I wished that I would. Then when I felt better, I worried that something went wrong. At least when I didn't feel well, I knew I was still pregnant.
Now, as my chemo symptoms have improved, I worry that the medicine has finished its job. I worry that the cancer could be regrouping. I'm almost certain the chemo drugs are not addicting, but in the way, they kind of are for me. Because now I want more of them. To be sure that the cancer is dead and if it's not all dead yet, to give it no chance to multiply.
It looks like the storm will pass through by tomorrow and my appointments first thing Wednesday morning will stay on schedule. Given that Dana-Farber is in Boston, they've obviously dealt with bad weather before and I'm guessing that a few days of delay on the chemo wouldn't be a big deal anyways. But still, I like schedules and staying on track. I like to think I'm in control of this thing.
I've heard power in our area is starting to go out, so I better hit "Publish" before I lose this entry. Then I better go think of things to do with my kids that don't involve electricity. Yikes. That should be interesting. Especially since my go-to distraction when they get really crazy is a TV show or the iPad. Plus, if we lose power for long enough to drain my laptop battery, my therapy will have to turn from a keyboard to a pen and paper. If that happens, at least I'll be guaranteed access to power on Wednesday from an infusion suite at Dana-Farber.
I thought I'd sign off with this quote that I found on A Word A Day a few weeks ago. It reminds me that I should be able to think of something to do as Sandy passes through. Even if I can't use anything that starts with an "i".
Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon. -- Susan Ertz, author (1894-1985)
|Teddy's "hurricane fort." Aptly named, since it kind of makes it look like a hurricane hit.|