Sometimes, I feel like my life is a poorly written comic book. Because really, what else can I do besides laugh?
Friday I took Randy to the Sequim Cancer Center for his third dose of radiation on his neck. And he was feeling the side effects from the chemo they dosed him with on Wednesday. He's pretty much been down for the count for the entire weekend. And it sucks.
But I get it. I may not be the most sympathetic person in the world, but I get it. I'm not a cold, calculating bitch, I mean, I really struggled with math. Right? But I was just in his position, which, you'd think, make me more sympathetic...but part of it is, it's his experience. I can't do it for him, and he doesn't expect me to.
And it's not that I don't feel his pain, because I do. It's just that I'm a tough act to follow. Right?
But the chemo nurses. Those broads don't fool around. They gave him a big dose of Tough Love on Friday. This, of course, was after they saw him on Thursday because he was so queasy. No vomiting. Just queasy. And, really, nobody likes nausea. I'll take diarrhea any day. Right?
On Thursday they loaded him up with sailene and anti-nausea meds in his PICC Line. And they rocked it on Thursday, and he slept most of the day, which I totally understand because chemo makes you have NO FUCKING ENERGY!!!!
It's hard to even roll your ass outta bed to go pee, let alone be transported to Sequim. That requires walking more. And, of course, driving down the highway at 65 mph because you gotta get there fast, like Wonder Woman flying her invisible jet, past the State Patrol office...I have plenty of time to meditate on what I'd say, just in case I get pulled over. Which, hopefully I will not.
Anyway, so Randy's been parked in bed all freaking weekend and I gotta get these trolls out an moving. And I have no plan.
But I had a great save.
So on Friday, we get home from the Cancer Center and he gets in bed and Florence hung out for a bit. Nathan schooled her in Monopoly. Isaac worked on a puzzle...and read a book.... Then I got the boys outta the house and we went to town and ran errands, including getting the truck washed, vacuuming it out (work, trolls, work!) two trips to the pharmacy (again!) and out to Ediz Hook. It was a beautiful summer day.
Apparently I did such a stellar job wearing out my kids, that Nathan was fried and fell asleep before brushing teeth and reading.
|Crashed out on the glider and ottoman|
|For a second I thought Isaac was gonna smash Nathan|
So I let Isaac mess with his brother. Why not? Live a little! Enjoy life! Laugh! Put books in his shorts? Sure! Go for it, kid! He's crashed OUT, yo! Yes! Let's take a picture! Great idea, Isaac!
But then that sweet, sleeping face got to me. And I had Isaac stop....
Today I took swimming. Isaac's been asking to go for a while. So I told them that I was scared to go because the last time we were there, they acted like jackasses. Which, really, we were all having fun and then I gave them a 10 minute and then a 5 minute warning, and then Nathan lost it and had a category 12 meltdown. So it's been a while since we've been. Oh, and there's the whole fucking both parents having cancer thing. That kinda put a major halt on swimming. And any chance of a "normal" childhood...but, really, in an autism house, normal is a setting on the dryer.
But we rocked it at the pool. I told them that if there was any shenanigans or jackassery that we'd be leaving immediately. And they kept their cool.
They have the basics, so we started in the shallowest end, then went into the diving bay. I told them that if they wanted to jump off the diving board, they had to swim to me, and I was out about 4 feet past the length of the diving board, then they had to swim to the wall. And they had to do this twice before going off.
They did it. I totally owned them.
And then Isaac asked if he could jump off the diving board. And I told him to ask the guard, so he did and she said yes. And they were like the energizer bunnies, with like 5-6 other boys about their ages. And I was the only mom going off the diving board. And I was diving. And it felt so SO good to fly again, even briefly, to be in the air and then knife the water and touch the bottom and then go back up, watching the air bubbles move up with me. And to come up for air....
And we stopped at the Post Office for Randy's new Limbo arm cover for him to take a shower (please Jesus take a shower!). I had no idea they even made such things. Hopefully it works. Because I know taking a shower will help him feel better. He just needs to be able to stand up for more than five minutes. He's thrown up a little bit. He doesn't have a fever. He's drinking water. No, I do not think he needs to go to the ER. I know the number for 9-1-1. And if I felt it was an emergency, I'd call. But it's not...he'll be ok...he's just gotta go through hell.
And then, tonight, a dear friend, who has significant experience with sudden, and incredibly traumatic, major life events, stopped by. She gave me crabs. Heh. And halibut. And smoked salmon. It's all frozen. And I could totally be a selfish bitch and be the only one who will eat most of it. But I won't...because it'll keep for when Randy's feeling better, too. Thank you, dear friend. I love you and you give good hugs.
Finally, tonight, Abby was Miss Excited and gets me to go outside after I got the boys in bed, and shows me how proud she is of herself for rearranging the drainage tube and trying to trap the squirrel. Thank you, Abby, for reminding me to not take life too seriously, and for asking if anyone has an idea of what to do with this.
At my life, which is a roller coaster in a poorly-written comic book.
|"Mom there's a squirrel!"|