Battle Hymns of a Hot Mess Mom

Is that not a sight? I decided to walk to the window this morning an take a photo to really capture the beauty. The sun is only slowly peaking through. This is the gratitude. This is the feeling I get when I have woken up here for the last 22 days. Even through the pain, through the chills, the fevers…I am grateful I woke up.

This is another photo of gratitude. J has slept here with me at the hospital just about all of the 22 days, he listens to Kevin Beep and act like a brat, the nurses come in to draw blood or do vitals in the middle of the night, change antibiotics at 2am, helplessly listen to me sobbing when my body hurt, or shuffle to the bathroom. I am grateful that this man has navigated this completely uncharted cancer waters with me. Being in the unknown is hard enough, but when you are a fixer and can not fix – it’s a different type of prison. I would see him pace the room like a wolf – back and forth, back and forth. Those were the nights I asked for him to go home, to watch him suffer watching me suffer seemed cruel. I know we will not feel the effects of this for a while. It’s still a blur to me. I don’t know the effects – but I know it’ll be there.

This is the photo of my reason. S’ Hello Kitty Pillowcase. S’ Cat. L’s Bedsheets. L’s Corgi. L & S’s Baby Dotted Blanket. There is no other choice and these items reminded me, there is no other choice. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much I wasn’t hungry, no matter now sick I felt. I have no other choice.

2:00pm I saw Alli when I was on my walk today – no news from the pathologist. No one yet can answer “Do I still have cancer?” Dr. C has been calling the pathologist all morning. He should have something this afternoon. Horses not zebras. My numbers are good. My platelets were stuck at 2 for a few days then on Monday I jumped to 40, then 94 and today 204 all without transfusions. My CTRL + ALT +DEL seems to be working. My hemoglobin did the same on Monday I jumped to 8.7, then 9.1 and today 9.5. Horses not zebras. But the last time I thought horses, it was zebras – so I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the results. I’m afraid it’s taking so long because they see blasts. I’m afraid that I have another round of chemo. I’m afraid. I want to be strong today, but I’m scared. I’ve been trying to listen to music to take my mind off of it. I’m cycling through all my genres – Pop, Rock, Love Ballads, Country back to Pop. I can’t settle. One step at a time. One step at a time. Breathe.

I cut my hair short before I started treatment. Today it’s starting to fall out in clumps. I didn’t think I would be bothered by it considering I cut it short already. But sitting in the shower with the wash cloth this afternoon it made me a little sad. Not sad in a vanity way. But sad that I had cancer, and my body was trying to preserve itself and keep me alive while the chemo was killing the cancer. So it couldn’t keep everything and had to let my hair go. I thanked my body. I know you were trying to keep everything, you were trying to keep my heart going and my organs going. You were trying to block out infections and keep me from bleeding when I couldn’t clot. I know you were trying to do everything to keep my alive while the poison was going all through my blood. But you couldn’t keep the hair. That’s okay, it’s just hair. You did an amazing job body…I’m here! My heart is strong. I’m here. I’m breathing. I’m here! You did an amazing job body. You did an incredible job. Thank you.