Nerf gun olive branch...

It's been a rough couple of weeks. Chris' chemo regimen changed and we thought he was going to feel better, but it's been so much worse. Twice in the past week I've thought, "He's in as much pain as I've seen him in," and I watched him get a fourth of his leg replaced last spring. The bar is pretty high.

And it's hard to deal kindly and gently with the boys when I'm tired and worried and when Chris needs me so much. I had good intentions tonight but was way too harsh with David. After the boys were in bed...

Chris: Is David okay? Remember the advice we got about making it right with the boys at bed time? You should get one of the nerf guns and go shoot David.

Me: That's a great idea.

So, because I ambushed him with a nerf machine gun, David and I are now okay. Boys are so weird.

 

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An update...

We had some unexpected good news this week.  Out of concern that he was developing pneumonia, Chris' oncologist scheduled a last minute chest scan this week.  There's something going on in his lungs, but it's not pneumonia and it's not cancer.*  His lungs are still clear.  And we got that update without a weeks-long, emotionally fraught waiting period.  

I was in the car today and realized that I was in a really good mood.  This is a novelty.  Right now I'm generally okay or not okay, but the last few days have been good, smiling kind of days.  

Inner dialogue:  Why am I in a good mood?  Hmmmm...  Chris doesn't have cancer in his lungs right now, and the boys are loving school.  

That's it.  Seriously guys, the bar is pretty low these days.  (For more on simple life goals, see this previous post.)

* For the curious or medical types, it's probably a toxic reaction to chemo that the doctor describes as sort of chemical pneumonia.  That sounds really bad unless you're comparing it to cancer.

Waiting rooms...

I spend a lot of time in waiting rooms these days. A cancer waiting room is fraught with potential for all kinds of inappropriate things, and I've seen some real gems. I'd like to think these particular selections were made with an ironic smile, but I doubt it.

This was on a table in a waiting room a few months ago...

There's really nothing else to say about that.

And today, blaring on the television in the crowded waiting room of the oncologist, was a soap opera. To fully appreciate this, picture the waiting room. The patients included a teenaged girl, a nursing mother, a young man with his mom and many, many more hurting people in the middle of heartbreaking situations. Most were just breathing deeply and trying to get through this next appointment. And in the background we have heavily made up, hysterical people wailing about things that are definitely not cancer. Chris and I got the giggles over it. I made eye contact with the mother of the young man sitting across from us. I smiled. She rolled her eyes. We didn't need any words.

 

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