Battle Hymns of a Hot Mess Mom

Not even a little. Not even a tiny bit. I don’t got I at all. I was chatting to the nurse whom happens to be my morning nurse today, but this is the first time I have ever seen here. It surprised me that is as the first time I’ve seen her but then again my sedated naps have been quite prevalent that I’m not surprised that I’m less interactive with my caretakers. I started to share my Pierre Cardan story, when…. BOOM it was going to happen. I shouted “I’m sorry, I gotta go I gotta go!” I’m scurrying….I’m a running FAST… “I’m not going to make it, I’m not going to make it.” I didn’t make. There is something VERY humbling about hitting the call button to ask for your nurse and giving the reason “Would you please call my nurse to come in, I had an accident.” UGH, it’s humiliating…and yes I know they have seen it all and they know this a side effect of what happens with radiation and chemo and then transplant. BUT I am still very embarrassed. I now have gigantic adult diapers on with the baby tabs on and a snug little stretchy underwear on that keeps it all snug to my body and cuts into the fat on my thighs. Good grief! This is NOT the hot girl autumn I imagined it. SMH.

But it happens and this is all part of radiation and chemotherapy – you sometimes loose you ability to hold your movements. You poop yourself cause you can’t clench water. If there is a magician that can clench water from sneaking out their balloon knot, save me Obi-Wan. The last few days have been purely survival mode. Besides the stomach pain and consistent bathroom runs, I couldn’t do much of anything else. There was an empty Utz Halloween tub outside that looked like it was once filled with pretzels and now was a sad bottomless crumbs of unloved candy. I wanted to get my foot, you bet a foot when you walk 10 times, some people are strong enough to walk 10 times around the whole thing but I can’t go around the whole place yet. There was a friendly guy that was beating feet – he said “You’ll get there!” and I responded with “I’m trying.” and he put me in my place with “There is only ‘can‘ or ‘can not‘ there is no try.” I mean firstly, “Amen” but secondly…a person can only be that positive…the others are all we have. This is really all that I have. But I hear you sir….”can” or “can not”…place put-ith.

I was making my night RN laugh and asked if I was a comedian or a writer. I said not, the that I write are just for my sh*ts and giggles. I could never see it being a real book. I’m not exactly a great writer. I’m all over the place. Hot mess mom, meet hot mess cancer… I don’t think that’s riveting material. Like, Thank you for spell check also. I wanted to get the clear foot so I wanted to make the U shape happen today, but I got dizzy and before I could call for J, I stumbled and hit my head on the IV. He isn’t talking to me right not. He’s not happy with me and that’s basically how he is when he’s mad at me…he just doesn’t talk to me. I leave him be until he’s ready.

I had to head down for a Head CT since I hit my head into the IV pole (it’s a billable). Head CT was all clear and I got a bit of wind in my face as transport and I raced down the corridor at Mach 5 hahaha. It was fun and I hope that it didn’t get him into any trouble. After we got back to the room I saw the very sad empty “Halloween UTZ” bucket and decided to fill it with more Hi-Chew, Starburst and Airheads. I took out the flavors that my children like the most and left the rest to the UTZ bin. As I was filling the bucket A and I introduced ourselves. A and the other guy are the Diamond of walkers…they push back and forth obsessively I barely get my feet off the ground while they are all about high knees! “Hi, I’m Nina. How many days post are you?” In hindsight I really shouldn’t have asked, but everyone has a story. “I’m Austin. This is my 6th week post chemo.” In fact he had a transplant already that was 10/10 and it didn’t take. At 3 months you’re supposed to take a bone marrow biopsy (this is roughly your 100 days) milestone. I shouldn’t have asked. He said his didn’t take and you only get two chances at transplant. I didn’t know that. I nodded. “Oh, I didn’t know that. But I will pray from your Christmas miracle.” I didn’t go to sleep uncomfortable or sad. He is a dad, he has two little kids as well and he hasn’t seen them in over 6 weeks, they must live far. I prayed for him last night. Not in the same way…I prayed that he is shown his path. I pray that God, Allah, Buddha….whatever name you want to use…I pray they show him his path and keep him on the path he’s meant to walk. To give him the courage to walk, to give him the grace and strength to walk it.

I was chatting with the PCA later that even during vitals as I was reporting stool / urine output. Yup, I report my own. I think they are better served doing vitals then measuring my stool/urine output – I can read too. I can dump and flush as well. I can scrub my hat (probably a little better and to my own liking). So I do my own. They are grateful for the kindness and in return…I don’t have to get my 3:00am-4:30am vital. Win-Win

I digress. So the PCA said that there was a woman 2 days post transplant that got caught with cigarettes tucked in her bed. She was smoking cigarettes in the public bathroom reserved for caretaker/visitors. The Charge Nurse asked for the ones in her hand and confiscated the ones in her room. She not only said no, she decided to leave. 2 Day Post transplant…she bounced. What a waste of resources and donor cells. I heard this a day and a half ago and I’m still not fully able to processed from her side of it. Cigarettes? I get it – it’s an addiction. She even had a nicotine patch. Such a shame.