Killian received an increased dose of Yondelis, and is tolerating it beautifully. He's not had a lick of nausea and is eating, as Mary Manfield aptly described, "like he's got a hollow leg." He and I are traveling while he's on that charming, ball-busting steroid. He goes off the 'roid tonight. I had to do a subcutaneous shot for the first time in four years (the last time he had cytotoxic chemotherpy). He said I did as good as any nurse. I can't help but wonder if he just said that to make me feel better. He says I can't hide when I'm nervous, which must be quite annoying for him because I feel nervous a lot these days. The shot I gave him boosts his white cell count, and will keep his blood levels where they should be so we can continue traveling. We're headed to Maine. I've had a standing invite from the Dunigan clan to visit their house in Maine since I was a little older than Killian. Yet, I've never been there. Killian has been four times and insisted I go this time. I'm going to study the relaxed people and act as if.
At some point, all this Maryland-to-wherever traveling should break me of the spacey, disorganized travel head I'm in. I demonstrated some ridiculous leadership on our trip down to NIH -- including missing a connecting flight! Though I was perfectly aware that I was flying, I proceeded to bring large bottles of shampoo and toothpaste in our bag. Killian and I had a discussion about how the whole no-liquids-on-planes thing came about. To the best of my recollection, someone blew up a train in England with combustible liquids they secreted aboard
-- something everday, like peroxide and acetone. Well, you can still bring liquids of all sorts and sizes on trains. Who cares about trains? If a train blows up, at least it won't fall on a bunch of people. Those Transportation Saftey folks sure did learn their lesson about planes though, whereby they dictated that containers of liquids could not exceed 3 ounces. Does anyone really feel safer because of this? I can't be the only person to whom it has occured that combustibles are not the only way one could do serious damage on a plane. What about mixing together a few 3 oz. containers of stable, everyday liquids like bleach and ammonia for some poison gas? I think I'm starting to sound like I'm drafting some kooky manifesto. I just want my toothpaste back -- that Arm & Hammer Age Defying toothpaste is hard to get.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Thank God For...
We made it back home and Killian is doing well. His blood counts are what they were anticipated to be. The lowered white blood cell count means the usual chemo rigamarole – no sushi, no unpasteurized dairy, no being around sick people, wash hands constantly, no swimming in fresh water… “WHAT!%$*#??? It’s August! I can’t go to the swimming hole?” No swimming hole and hot, chlorinated swimming pools are carcinogenic – all I can say is thank god for Dusty’s pool. Dusty is one of the funniest, warmest, and most steadfast persons to walk this earth. She also happens to have a saltwater pool and has invited Killian to swim any time.
Dusty brought me chicken soup without asking what I needed. She just knew. Neighbor KT picks up Cally for sleepovers when I or Phil look worse for wear, without telling us we look worse for wear. Neighbor Sharon gets me out walking and makes deep small talk. That’s an art that only the most considerate perfect. Another thing I can say is, thank god for neighbors. While I’m thanking god, I want to extend thanks to those with whom I’m more familiar than god. Sometimes it’s easy to overlook the familiar. I forgot to thank Susie, Sharon and Sarah for what they did for the benefit concert in July. Thank you Susie, Sarah, and Sharon. – you are inspiring goddesses all. In my mad dash to get acknowledgements out before leaving for the NIH, I’m wondering about others I forgot to thank. I hope I’ll remember soon. If not, I hope the unthanked don’t feel what they did was thankless. I’m profoundly grateful, and blessed to be living in a state of gratitude. Living in gratitude is, in itself a gift. Gratitude keeps bitterness from eating away the soul. Gratitude keeps me from drowning in self-pity. Gratitude is an opportunity to feel connected to others, to the earth. Gratitude is the path to forgiveness and peace. Gratitude might could save us all.
P.S. Phil tried to tell that "might could" was a typo. Actually, it's a southernism that emphasizes the perpetual and undirected motion of non-commitment.
Dusty brought me chicken soup without asking what I needed. She just knew. Neighbor KT picks up Cally for sleepovers when I or Phil look worse for wear, without telling us we look worse for wear. Neighbor Sharon gets me out walking and makes deep small talk. That’s an art that only the most considerate perfect. Another thing I can say is, thank god for neighbors. While I’m thanking god, I want to extend thanks to those with whom I’m more familiar than god. Sometimes it’s easy to overlook the familiar. I forgot to thank Susie, Sharon and Sarah for what they did for the benefit concert in July. Thank you Susie, Sarah, and Sharon. – you are inspiring goddesses all. In my mad dash to get acknowledgements out before leaving for the NIH, I’m wondering about others I forgot to thank. I hope I’ll remember soon. If not, I hope the unthanked don’t feel what they did was thankless. I’m profoundly grateful, and blessed to be living in a state of gratitude. Living in gratitude is, in itself a gift. Gratitude keeps bitterness from eating away the soul. Gratitude keeps me from drowning in self-pity. Gratitude is an opportunity to feel connected to others, to the earth. Gratitude is the path to forgiveness and peace. Gratitude might could save us all.
P.S. Phil tried to tell that "might could" was a typo. Actually, it's a southernism that emphasizes the perpetual and undirected motion of non-commitment.
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