Battle Hymns of a Hot Mess Mom

My hands are hurting and peeling. I tried putting my hands in coconut oil and a glove but it didn’t seem like it did much. Nothing much seems to help with the peeling. Feels like my hands are hot and burning, 2nd day of chemo was similar to yesterday. Tired and nauseous.

Chemo was BRIGHT and early this morning at 7:00am, this was not by choice. I had an oncologist appointment at 9:00am; so it became a twofer. Just a very early twofer. Chemo was about the same as yesterday, nausea and the dry heaves. The receptionist who checked me into chem chatted with me this morning. Her mom had AML, she said that she only lasted three years ad that because of her age wasn’t eligible for a transplant. The timeline of survival is around 5 years. That was comforting. Thanks for sharing? I forgot my hat this morning, but the nurses were kind enough to let me grab one from their basket. I grabbed a pink one since it’s S’s favorite color.

Kevin 3.0 beeped today and J was super triggered lol. Now not hearing him beep daily, I don’t want to say I miss it…because I certainly do not, but there was a familiarity. Familiarity breeds contempt but there was also comfort in that familiarity. Just like there was comfort when my Day Nurse was C, or when R, I or Z was my Night Nurse. I would find comfort seeing them and knew I could rest easy. I would grow to know their personalities and styles. I would be especially anxious if my Day Nurse was someone new; pretty much anyone except Nurse C – I’d raise an eyebrow.

We passed by the hospital, and the window which I would watch the sunrise to and take my evening sun bath to. It truly was a gigantic room, one I miss but also don’t miss at all. I don’t obviously miss the nuclear bomb of chemo I had while I was in the room or the pain, colitis, allergic reaction or seizure but there is something I can’t quite put my finger on. But it’s there. There’s also a sadness too, I didn’t get all the cancer out, even after the nuclear bomb of chemo. I still had to do more chemo, while it wasn’t all for nothing, as there was a LOT of cancer that was killed off. Maybe there’s something comforting because it too was familiar; like Kevin. I obviously associate the beeping of Kevin and Room 17 to cancer but I also started to find my own clarity there. I can’t say I found forgiveness or grace for myself, but I started to look in the mirror. I starting to call myself out and face my mistakes. Maybe that’s what I miss…those times of introspection while I was there. Watching the beauty of the sun kiss the buildings at sunrise and bathe me in warmth in the evenings – there is a certain zen for sure!

It’s a pharmacy on my nightstand. I immediately think of the meme – “It’s never enough, it’ll never be enough.” Haha it’s enough! Enough with the meds! It is a lot of meds, nausea, pain, antiviral, something for my liver and stomach – and then there’s chemo, antibiotics and the steroids. A lot of meds flowing in me. J will be starting to flush my picc lines. I’m a little terrified. This is the man that got “YouTube” certified (he watched three videos) and wanted to take out the staples I had after my c-section. Genuinely excited to give me my Ozempic shot. He is beside himself with happiness to flush my picc lines. Weirdo. I think he missed his calling in the medical profession. I mean it’s never too late for a career change, though he’d have to work on his bedside manner. If you know my husband, you know he can be (insert word). With that, it’s off to bed, again.