Yesterday was the day after chemotherapy. By far, it is the best day of the cycle.
Full of it!
With liters of saline watering down the poison, Russell's blood volume was good. His heart rate was down from its normal 120+. His color was not the pallor of last week. The potassium and B12 gave him a boost of energy akin to the non-stoppable, ever-readiness of our children. I was ready to take full advantage of events others take for granted: We were going to tackle spot shopping.
Load up!
The children are home from school for spring break. I asked, "Who wants to go to the store?" To the credit of the school's speech pathologist, Nicholas raised his hand and said, "I do!"
Veronica asked, "Where are we going?" Ever the social director, she needed the itinerary.
"We are taking Daddy to the hospital for his medicine, and then we are going shopping. Do you want to go to the store?" Instantly, my mind's eye saw her with a pencil behind her ear, clipboard in hand, bird-dogging her help.
Getting everyone in the car, a mild adventure on a good day, was a chore with which Russell helped. (Victory!) He grabbed Nicholas' hand and out the door my men went.
Pick a channel.
Daddy likes light '80s. Veronica likes turn of the century NY clubbing music. Momma prefers classic '60s rock & rock. Since Veronica asked for a specific song before I turned on the player, clubbing music it was.
Halfway through the trip, Daddy started signing, "If I were King of the Forest" (1939 Wizard of Oz). Veronica was delighted and learned the words before we got to the hospital.
I am glad my car knows its own way to all the places we go. The ocapella chorus, of questionable quality, was as entertaining as the morning and evening chorus our hounds use to serenade us each day.
The smiles made my heart soar.
"I want hamburger chickens."
In the unending attempt to put weight on Russell, when have instituted a tradition: McDonald's after the hospital. Russell gets a high-fat sandwich. I get a fish patty. Nicholas gets French fries (his second voluntary vegetable). Veronica gets "hamburger chickens". She knows we go to get hamburgers, but she gets chicken nuggets. To her mind, they are "hamburger chickens".
Shoot me before Wal-Mart.
The sheer size of what I consider a microbial store, wears Russell. He does well to travel 300 feet at a clip before sitting down to catch his breath. We made a full lap of the store with Russell even traveling a few aisles to retrieve what interested him.
Interest alone is a victory. For more than three weeks, Russell has had no appetite. I have been unable to entice him to eat even his dyed-in-the-wool favorite foods. For the silver lining, the dogs are eating well as a result.
Back to the road!
With everyone having gotten a toy (Russell, too), we loaded up for the 35 mile trip home. A vibrant conversation ensued, with all occupants in participation. Nicholas even tried to keep up with the melody of the songs.
Please stow your tray tables as we prepare for descent.
We stopped by the mailbox. Russell rightfully fussed it was brimming. The mailbox has always been his job, but the quarter mile round trip to the mailbox is more than he can handle. Yes, our front yard is a bit over one-tenth of a mile.
I am not fond of snail mail. My paraplegic sister has been my postal ray of sunshine. We send each other cards and hand made postcards. She maintains, "It is so nice to go to the mailbox and get something from someone who does not want money." She is right.
The children were happy to bring in merchandise and help put everything away. The dogs were glad to see us with a full box of French fries. Russell was tired, but fulfilled from the trip. I was happy we had spent the time together.
Laughter is good medicine.
Ann Marie
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