We arrived home from the beach a few hours ago to a gloriously clean house (thank you, Daniel) and a stunning new chair in my bedroom. This is the good (and it is really good). Tomorrow morning, Judah needs to be at St. Christopher's to get checked in for his renal scan at 7:30. This is the evil. I am trying my best not to have a total meltdown about this procedure, but since the whole cancer diagnosis, I find it difficult not to worry even more than I did B.C. since now all of my worrying is completely justified.
I have never been an optimistic person. I prefer to prepare myself for what will inevitably be something bad (and if the bad stuff doesn't happen now, I'm sure it's just around the bend). That means stress, anxiety, tears, insomnia, either total loss of appetite or binge eating (snack foods and other crap I definitely don't need), etc. Right now, I should be in bed, fast asleep. Too worried.
I'm not going with Dan and Judah tomorrow for a few reasons. First, I'm a weepy mess NOW, think how much worse it would be once Judah starts crying. Second, hospitals are germy places. If I catch something, I can't get my next treatment (#4) on Wednesday. As much as I'd like to get out of chemo, I can't chance it. Gotta get my poison and get that tumor the freak out of here ASAP.
So I will distract myself by going grocery shopping. Oh, wait, I can't do that because our white car is having more issues. Yes, folks, we've got car problems again. Apparently a plastic bag got wrapped around some part (an axle?) and the mechanics keep saying they've removed it all, but then we hear this noise and have to take it back so they can keep removing more plastic bits. Just one more evil thing in our lives: plastic.
No, instead of going out, I will upload pictures from Bethany. This includes pics I took of the fronters (people who sit directly in front of you on the beach, blocking your view of the ocean) with every intention of outing them. There is such a thing as beach etiquette, people, and I am conscientious about making sure my child does not kick/throw/shovel sand in other peoples' "areas", while I expect a certain amount of decency in return. And there IS enough space for all of us. It is not like we're in [insert the most crowded beach you've ever been to here], for pete's sake. It's South Bethany and quite lovely, I might add. We even saw dolphins this morning. More points for the good.
I watched Kris Carr's Crazy Sexy Cancer documentary last night. I'd seen it when TLC first aired it, but I got it from netflix for a refresher. Probably a bad idea, but I figure, what the heck? What's a few more tears in the grand scheme of things? I'm almost always dehydrated anyway. It was slightly comforting to watch and listen to honest people who are dealing with many of the same emotional issues as I am, but Kris (writer, director and star) only interviewed one person who went through chemo (and her cancer relapsed a few months later, forcing her to have a stem cell transplant). The type of cancer Kris has is so rare, there is no "usual" treatment for it. Definitely a bummer, no doubt, but it's hard for me to relate to what she deals with as a self-proclaimed "healing junkie" when I am trying to survive chemo. Still, the movie as a whole scored a few points for the good as an overall positive spin on the reality of young adults dealing with cancer.
It's hard to stay thinking positive and feeling positive about my future when the present is taking forever to get through. I'm sorry, I am not going to be growing, cutting and juicing my own wheatgrass every morning. As soon as chemo is over and my taste buds can all find some common ground, I will give some of the green juices a try (kale, I'm looking at you) but we will have to use some kiwi and agave to sweeten the deal a bit.
As a sidenote, just a helpful tip from me to the general public: if you see someone out and about, wearing a headscarf (aka looking like a cancer patient), trying to forget about her troubles for a NY minute, please do not come up and share your concern if it means including a story about someone close to you who died from cancer. It's not that I'm not extremely sorry for your loss. Across the board - that is the worst. It's just that I don't want to hear ANY stories about ANY persons who have lost their lives to ANY type of cancer. Don't care if the person was 118 years old, smoked 5 packs a day and owned their own tanning bed. Nope. Don't want to hear it. If you'd like to join the team and have such stories to tell, please pray for me silently (we are a no-cut team and will accept members of all religions). Thank you.
Back to the chair. This chair is so good, it deserves its own post. So I will save that for tomorrow, when Judah's scan is behind us and I can fully focus on all of its soft and cozy details (oh, and the people who got it here in the first place - love you guys).