Back To School

Today was the kids’ first day back to school and my 3rd round of chemo. Far be it from me to give the kids all the glory. I am a giant thunder-stealer. Sorry kiddos! You’re going to school. That is normal. I am going to get poisoned back into health. That is extraordinary. I win.

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My amazing mom and sister helping the kids off to school

But for reals, I am so proud of these small people. They were thrilled about going back to school and starting to learn again. They are so different, but such a lovely complement to one another.  They are brave and resilient and I am so grateful to call them mine.

Oh yeah, we have a toddler, too. I have slightly less glowing things to say about him these days, as his favorite activities are hitting me on the (bald) head, throwing colossal tantrums and begging for popsicles from 6am-8pm every day. Thank god for daycare, because when I am in the throes of chemo, he is WAY out of my league.

So, after a hectic morning of getting the big kids off to school, the toddler off to daycare and the dogs off to ‘camp,’ I was free! Except I wasn’t–because I had a 9am reservation at the Kellogg Cancer Center.

This time I had the royal trifecta of my mom, my sister and my cousin Katie accompanying me. Katie, as some of you may remember, is a breast cancer survivor herself.  We even share the same oncologist. I find her enormously brave for coming back and watching me go through what she had to endure just 5 years ago. She is a hero. She keeps me laughing and feeling loved at all times.

Chemo was ‘the usual.’ My labs were wonky but ‘normal’ for a chemo patient. I have been having some ‘lady part problems’ down low so my oncologist insisted on a pregnancy test. Despite my many objections that that would be a waste of time and resources, she ran it anyway. You will all be thrilled to know the second coming of Christ is not coming on my watch. Seeing my midwife for a pelvic ultrasound tomorrow. That is sure to be a delight while reeling from chemo.

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Today’s look: Borrowed Hermès head scarf, sequin pants, sequin ruby slippers, stuffed toy angry cancer cell and Ugg blanket. I am fabulous. That’s all.

 

 

On the way home from chemo I made my mom stop at the medicinal marijuana dispensary for a last-minute addition to my arsenal. Let me assure you that borrowing cash from your mom in the waiting room of a cannabis shop is a new experience for me. Thanks mom!

We all picked the big kids up from a successful day of school. They seemed happy and inspired. We are so lucky to live so close to such a wonderful public school.  I could practically throw my children there, we live so close. It is such a treat.

They wanted to go hang at grandma’s house, which meant I had about an hour to rest before picking up the baby at daycare. Once I got into the car I started to feel it. A very strong wave of exhaustion. This usually doesn’t hit until late tomorrow. I pick him up and get him buckled in his car seat and find that I need to rest my head on the steering wheel for a solid 5 minutes before I feel ready to lift my head up and drive. Not great.

We are safely home and I think I have learned my lesson. This round will be different from the last one, just like the last one was different from the first one.

I will most likely move into my mom’s house tomorrow evening for the remainder of the week/weekend. It is better for everyone for me to be isolated and recover in peace, despite it being a huge strain on everyone.

I miss not knowing what lies ahead of me. I know all too well now. It’s daunting.

These will be dark days, friends, but you know I will find some humor in them somewhere. The day I can’t laugh at my own dysfunction is the day y’all need to call in the therapists.

Until then- Grancer OUT.

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Squad

 

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3 Comments Add yours

  1. Jennifer says:

    Every morning at about 6:20 I hear my son open his door and stomp into my room. He crawls up in my bed and snuggles right next to me…. Then says, “Can I have a Popsicle?”

    Maybe you can make yourself a “medical grade” Popsicle.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I burst into tears like clockwork on day 4 post chemo every cycle. I always hit it with so much optimism and ‘can do’ but hitting that low point time after time, having to get back up, time after time… it’s so hard. I clung to the motto ‘One foot in front of the other (don’t look ahead)’. I would wish you strength and love and all that jazz but you have it in spades (even the jazz).

    Like

  3. cherylcarse says:

    I have no children, so I don’t know what it must take to look after 3 little ones. But to do it while reeling from the effects of chemo, and still manage to look great in a headscarf, and sparkles…I can’t even…
    You ARE fabulous!
    I got a chuckle out of you borrowing money from your Mom at the cannabis shop. 😂

    Like

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