I'm here. Hanging out with the nurses. Watching cable. Catching up on e-mails and my bazillion Facebook messages. Waiting for this slow poke system to kick in so I can get my daggone chemo. I got up here on the sixth floor around 10 a.m. but I won't get my juice until around 6 p.m. tonight. Kablewy.
Really I need not complain. This is time without being hooked up to my perpetual buddy, Cletus the IV Stand.
So this regimen lasts five days, and if all goes well, I'll get kicked out sometime on Saturday.
Later today, I'll snap a few pix of my new view of street and lovely buildings. My room's a little on the small side, but I've got a little foyer area that cuts out noise and a large, freshly tiled bathroom.
My mom and Little A came by for lunch and brought me a nice bucket of goodies and sugar-based comforts. Little A had gotten pretty comfortable with hanging at the hospital, except after about an hour, he started asking, "Are we going home now?" He brought with him some new car toys and my old stuffed Garfield. Odd, I never thought that I'd see my own child playing with my old toys.
Thanks everyone for the positive comments and messages. Your love and kindness has become my life raft in these choppy waters.
Peace out from the Big House, cell 38.
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4 comments:
I just gave my son's old toys to his son - it was a pleasing moment. They were solid wood from a place called Vermont Toy Store or something like that. Solid wood cars and such, road tested for sure, by their dad and two uncles. I guess that makes me a pack-rat. Here are best wishes sent your way for these few days in Room 38. ( - : Carol
My IV pole was named Jethro. :) Feel better soon.
That's what Mom's do. They pass down their toys to the next generaion... The circle of family memories. Ask Mariah about her baptismal dress being worn by her goddaughter.
Hang in there girl. Be strong and take in the joy from your child.
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