Check in

 Just checking in. How's everybody doing in the relentless lead up to Christmas? Those of you missing loved ones due to distance or the afterlife, are you doing okay? Text if you need to talk. I'm here. Church workers, do you have the support you need? We appreciate all you're doing to get ready for Christmas; thank you. Teachers, you hanging in there? I've been hearing varying descriptions of the classroom craziness and am praying for all of you heroes, haha! You can do it. Just a few more days. Keep breathing!

Another reason to celebrate: I am officially done with my Red Devil side of chemo! My doc said all my blood cell numbers were good to go, told me I looked wonderful, asked if I was up for it, and I declared, "let's get it over with!" I had a good day with my Zita- thanks, babe! Hooray for another thing crossed off the list. Whew! It has been a YEAR of ridiculousness, no doubt. And as for 2025...

My next appointment will be in January when my Taxol treatments kick off. Doc claims that one will be easier all around though I should expect neuropathy in my hands and feet for a few days after each treatment. Always some new wrinkle to add to the learning curve. We'll see how that goes. Right now, I'll just be over here pumping myself full of water and salad to keep things flushing out and moving along and doing small things as I can accomplish them. Looking forward to Thing Three's holiday concert, I have a visit with my plastics doc and PT this week, and otherwise it's real life and Christmas prep. 

Hang in there, everybody. Be safe, stay off the egg nog, sneak a cookie when nobody's looking, and take care of yourselves, not just everyone else. You're allowed naps. You're allowed coffee with a friend out of the house. You're allowed to decorate the tree with every ornament you own or just leave it lights only if that makes you happy! Go for a walk if the temps and the ice aren't intimidating. Play the Christmas carols or blast you own favorites. Have a bubble bath- when was the last time you had one? The only thing in our tub is spiders... it is sadly neglected and I may need to have a date with it after evicting the small predators since NOT all drains lead to the ocean...

My point is, the year is rapidly drawing to a close. I know you parents with kids at home are overwhelmed and everyone is counting down the days for school to be done for awhile. Wash those hands and eat real food and remember to hydrate. Breathe. You are all so loved. Enjoy your holidays the best that you can and don't stress about perfection. Be merry and bright! xoxoxxo

3700

 No, that's not an amount for a bill for any of my surgeries or chemo or insurance for driving Ori onto rocks, though good guesses all. That's the number of posts on this blog! Can you even believe it? It's like I have something to say... or something. Who'd have thought? (Nana, in the afterlife, is chuckling to herself and snarking, "anybody who ever met you! Are you kidding? All those times I had to separate you from Tammy at nap time because you wouldn't stop talking?!" Yes, well, there is that.

I'm sort of just checking in. I miraculously have zero doctors' appointments this week and am on the upswing after mostly a week of chemo crumminess. To say I'm not looking forward to next week's treatment is an understatement of epic proportions. However, it IS nice to know that I will sort of be feeling myself come Christmas, AND the AC part of chemo will be over with. Hooray! Merry Christmas to ME! As they used to say in karate, "LAST ONE, BEST ONE" though I'm not sure that quite applies here as the results are cumulative and I felt like... well, to quote our youngest, "dogwater" would be pretty applicable. I'm not sure if he means dog pee or the scum in their drinking water from their backwash because I'm afraid to ask, but either way, yeah, that kinda fits. To have the inside of your mouth feel sandblasted, to have the chemical roiling of your stomach, to feel like you've been dragged through solidifying cement with the accompanying pounding of your heart when all you've done is climb up a single set of stairs... I'd say dogwater fits. 

Yes, I am taking my anti nausea meds, though I could take more of them, though they come with their own side effects and I'd rather limit all that nonsense. Yes, I'm climbing back into bed (YAY, BED!) at every opportunity. I'm even feeling less guilty about it because my brain knows healing is hard work even though my spirit wants to Go Do Stuff. My Lisa says, "go back to bed for all of us who can't!" I figure I'm taking one for the team. Teehee. I should be drinking more, so if you talk to me, ask where I am water-wise and tell me to go take some sips. *Reaches for her glass of water whilst rolling her eyes* 

No, our Christmas tree isn't up yet, but our wreaths are, so that's progress. At this rate, once we get it up it might have to stick around until my birthday. Those of you who know us are asking, "how is that different from any other year?" Hush, you. 

For those of you asking about meals for us, bless your sweet hearts. As I was telling my friend the other day, food is tricky right now, though this week should be better. Dada is still doing no carbs, the kids are pretty much all carbs, and I am absolutely all over the map like a pregnant woman. I will have a sliced baby cucumber. Then an hour later maybe cheese and crackers. Then another hour after that perhaps a little bit of meat or some peanut butter toast. Last night I was eating single Cheerios out of the box, one after another, while I watched TV. For lunch, I plan to devour an entire head of butter lettuce* with veggies and cheese and croutons (Thing Three is at school so I'll only have to fend off Thing Two since Thing One doesn't emerge for awhile yet) and maybe a can of tuna on it and it is going to be DELICIOUS and then my mouth won't feel like I've licked a salty camel straight from the Sahara. 

*In a text from Dada, that came out "butthead" lettuce so we will be henceforth calling it that.

All in all, and my doc is in agreement with this, I'm doing well. It doesn't always FEEL like that, but as I'm also not praying to the porcelain god, I'll take it. I may look like a drunken sailor on land who is using the wall with one hand to stay stable, but I'm still moving, thank you, Jesus. Today I'm actually on my second load of laundry**, have swept the kitchen floor, made phone calls which I despise (who's with me- where are my "I'd rather die than talk on the phone" peeps?), renewed Pepe's license plate, got some mail ready to go out, and some other stuff. I'm hogging 2/3 of the couch with paperwork and have displaced Thing Two completely. I have a pile of Stuff on the floor in the Old Lady Room that I need to deal with, but we are getting there.

** The second load is dog towels and blankets. Miss Honey, who will be at least 10ish years old this week, relieved herself on the hall rug before Thanksgiving and we didn't have time to deal with it other than baking soda and vacuum it before we travelled, so we lugged it outside where the weather could rain and snow on it to it's heart's delight. We brought it in a few days ago, still smelling of baking soda. The Idiot Bos decided to lick it in a bunch of places last evening while we were having dinner, then proceeded to barf on a different rug when his stomach realized it couldn't digest dog hair, dirt, and baking soda. Hence the load of towels. How he can manage to NOT throw up rat poison when he needs to but CAN vomit other stuff remains a mystery. Dumber than a box of rocks. Seriously. That's insulting to rocks. He's no smarter now than he was when we got him 7.5 years ago. Somebody save us. I am never picking out a dog again. And if Honey doesn't quit pooping on the deck, I am going to ask Santa not FOR a dog, but to kindly take both of ours!

So I'm off to make my salad. Have a wonderful hump day!

Rocks defeat cars as well as scissors

 Grab a Christmas cookie and a hot drink. This'll be lengthy. 

See that tiny bruise on my palm? That is because all y'all pray for me, especially during this chemo season. 

That tiny bruise is the only mark I have on me after my adventure to chemo #3 yesterday. Settle in and I'll tell you a tale of a damsel in distress and the heroic knights who stepped in to help her.

Yesterday morning, surprise snow started before bus time. It was pretty and swirly and Thing Three and I enjoyed watching the flakes dance in the headlights of oncoming vehicles on our road as we waited for his bus. We laughed at the swirls of them after the cars passed. 

Apparently it took everyone by surprise as no warnings had been given or salt trucks or plows or anything. Dada went into the office and texted back that the back roads were covered and to be careful if I went down any back roads to chemo.

Aye aye, cap'n.

So I took the interstate, saw at least two vehicles in the median, an ambulance coming on the oncoming side, passed a salt truck, all was well. The exit ramp was ... okay. The main drag was fine albiet still under construction. The only back road I took had another vehicle in front of me and HE managed the turn just fine. 

Ori had other ideas. 

Apparently I complain often about not being able to parallel park, because he took it upon himself to skid straight across the road and park (Thing One said "that's not parking- that's camping") in the landscaping on the opposite side despite the driving expert in my brain hollering, "don't mash the brakes; pump them!" I yelled back, "I AM pumping them and have been!" Then he hollered, "don't yank the wheel; steer into it!" I yelled back, "I'm TRYING!"

Too late. Into the decorative tall grasses and large rocks we went. 

*Insert cloud of piratey talk here. Loud. Repetitive. Think Napoleon at the bowling alley in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" when he gets a gutter ball, only my swearing was not eloquent French but repetitive cursing in my native language. I even threw in one of the words I feel Henry Cavill's Witcher says well, though my favorite is when John Malkovich says it. Moving on.*

It's not in any of the pictures, but believe it or not, these homeowners also have a big pond a little further beyond the rocks I hit. I doubt I'd have ever made it that far, but it's another aspect to be grateful for because being wet and cold would have been ever so much worse.

Bah. Rocks win every time.

I immediately call chemo to tell them I'll be late- alas, I was put on hold so another cloud of piratey talk ensued while I listened with the other ear for the woman to come back on the phone. I told her the basics and that I'd call back when I knew more. 

I called 911, my first ever experience, so there you go, Sharon- I live a sheltered life. The dispatcher informed me someone would be there right away and sure enough, within minutes an extrememly pleasant officer from the Sheriff's office pulls up and gets the ball rolling with the paperwork. Within a few more minutes, a tow truck shows up and another cheerful fellow hops out to take the situation in hand, me apologizing, him tut tutting that it's no problem, that he's seen so much worse.

I had already told the officer that I was headed to chemo and asked him dejectedly if he would be so kind as to take me there. Since I could have walked, though it would have taken awhile, and I think because he was pleased I'd be getting medical attention anyway, he said sure and had me bundle all the things I had to rescue from the car into the back seat of his cruiser.

Y'all, I've also never been in a police car before. He told me I got to sit up front. He EVEN asked if I wanted the lights and siren when we pulled up to chemo. 🙈 When I told some of the nurses that, they were all giggles and said they'd have said yes, but I was worried someone inside would think there was an emergency in an area with medically fragile people and opted a polite no, thank you. 

PLUS, and from a purely selfish and wanting to save any shred of dignity I had left standpoint, THANK GOODNESS we had mostly emptied the car out from our Thanksgiving trip because as it was, I was taking my purse and a backpack to chemo so I could work on Christmas cards and read and stuff, but I also had bags of boxes I was planning to mail. AND a skateboard from the trunk that belongs to the firstborn as well as a speaker and CDs and whatever else I thought shouldn't be sitting around in a towed domain. 

I looked at the officer and said, "do you think I'm the only person to head into chemo with a skateboard?" He chuckled at me. Such a good sport. 

Bye Ori. I'm so sorry. Goodness.

I am SO GLAD that it happened to me and not any of our family's young drivers. I am so thankful that nobody was coming the other way and that I didn't hurt anybody. I'm so glad I was already slowed, knowing it is a rough right turn. I'm glad I was as close as I was to chemo, that the tow truck could pull it out fairly easily. You guys, I KNOW that is all because of your prayers. Thank you. Clearly they are working! The nurses laughed at how good my blood pressure was despite the morning I'd already had. Nurses I've only had once before kept popping in to say, "Val! What in the world!? Are you okay? Oh my goodness!" Definitely the best team. I'm in such good hands. They even asked if I had a ride home- I did, the lovely Zita- and the nurses were hoping to get out of work early to get me home, haha!

My doc laughed and shook her head at me after she hugged me. She looked at all the stuff I'd lugged in and laughed again, calling for a wheelchair not for me but for ease of moving all that stuff to another room for chemo. She said, "in all my years of medicine, I've never had anyone stick googly eyes on their chemo, and I've never seen anyone bring a skateboard in the winter." I asked her how in the world I'm supposed to top it next time I go in. Grinning at me, she informed me all my blood cell numbers are perfect and everything looks great and that I'm tolerating all of this really, really well. 

Some of you are probably wondering if my port worked this time. Yes and no. My nurse, I'll call her J, whom I haven't seen since 6 years ago and was delighted to catch up with, asked how things were going (other than the accident) and I told her last week when I was in that it wouldn't draw blood. She started it, said, "hooray, we got it- oh no" and then we went through the "take a deeeeep, slow breath" and "okay, let's try arms up" and "let's lay you down because it might be positional" and finally, "okay, let me order some cath- [something or other but my brain changed it to cath-pow like Abby's CAFF-POW on NCIS] which eventually worked and they got blood out but the lab came again and my left elbow sacrificed to another jab. The lab lady, different from last week, was also excellent and nailed it first try. Apparently I'm staying well hydrated. 

Chemo went uneventfully, thank goodness, and I got some Christmas cards done and spoke with an insurance gal who was in Arizona, the lucky duck, but was from Missouri so knew about snow and ice and she felt sorry for me and I made her laugh when I told her the story, so all is in the works and I had a day of amazing people all around. 

Thing One said, "hmm, maybe we should have people pray for whatever vehicle you're taking, too. There was a loophole in there somewhere. God was scanning, 'Val, Val, Val, Val, chemo, Val, nope, nothing about the car, we're good!' ... my baby!!!!!" Poor thing. It's the same car the huge oak limb fell on and we'd gotten the entire roof and windshield replaced. Guess it was my turn to take out the bottom. I have no idea how much damage I did to the undercarriage and it's a 2007 so we shall see what insurance says. Man.

So I hope you enjoyed your cookie and hot drink and a story to make you laugh. I'm fine, all is well, 2024 has not been my year but that's okay, nobody was hurt except our poor, faithful Ori who clearly, despite what he thinks, does NOT know how to parallel park any better than I do!

Be safe out there, people. Tis the season for GERMS and scary road situations. And clean out your vehicle. 😉

Seriously, thank you all for the prayers. I know they make a difference. My doc told me she would have understood if I'd cancelled but was thrilled that I came despite everything so we could stay on schedule. The facts that the tiny bruise was the only physical mark on me, that my blood pressure was great, that I didn't cry when the authorities showed up... all of that points to His faithfulness to me because of your interventions. Please don't doubt that prayer works. I'm living, breathing proof!

Fluid fugazi and Fireballs

 My oncologist let me delay my third chemo so that I could fully enjoy Thanksgiving. Enjoy it I did! I delighted in everything tasting the way it should. You know that line from "Into The Woods" about "and there was far too much food..."- well, that was surely us. And a lot of America, I bet!

Last week I went in for pre-travel fluids so I'd be well hydrated and plumped up, I guess, haha. On the drive there, I figured, "everything's still tasting right and I don't have any mouth sores yet... let's try a Fireball!" Imagine my delight when I didn't breathe fire and enjoyed my candy while driving! Wahoooooo!

Upon arrival, the nurse was cheerful and we were discussing Thanksgiving plans with family before she grumbled about my port being a stinker. Apparently sometimes fluids can go IN but drawing blood OUT doesn't work, and since both parts of that are important, she had to call someone from the lab to come stick my arm instead. No big, and apparently I was hydrated enough that she got it on the first try, mercifully (especially as I hadn't been thinking about drinking, assuming they'd access my port)! However, I wasn't super thrilled. The entire point of a port is to save my arm veins- no touchie! Grrr!

An option she gave was to administer a blood thinner and then she would check the port every half hour for up to two hours to see if the blood thinner was doing its job. Or we could skip it and just have the lab do it. I went for the second option as I've never had blood thinners and have no idea what they'd do to me, especially right before heading out of town for the holiday. Not It, thanks.

So if all y'all are still praying, please mention that all involved parties would love for the port to do it's darn job (both parts) from here on out. Thanks!

Going, going…

 Not quite gone, but it’s getting there. To those of you who’ve heard me comment that I look like a lightbulb that’s trying to grow hair… see for yourself! I look like a Minion!

Happy 45th birthday smiles to Hinrew! We love you bunches and are sending you big hugs and smooches.

Two months out, my scar looks fantastic. Every doc who has seen it says it’s healing really well. I have to admit that it looks way better than I was expecting it to. I’m thankful.