CC and I are out of bed and actually dressed by 10 this morning as the Water Man is supposed to arrive any minute. The pipes in CC’s rental house are original 1950’s treasures and we’ve deemed the drinking water that comes out of them unacceptable for a chemo patient with low immunities and an overly sensitive gut. CC arranged for the local water company to deliver a cooler for the kitchen. We decided on the one with instant hot water too as CC has come to rely on her nightly cup of Smooth Move tea. I mean she drinks teas during the day and all but hey, we’re taking all the ease and convenience we can right now!
We get a call to let us know the water delivery guy’s truck broke down but he can be here tomorrow. No problem, we’ll have the giant hand sanitizer pump bottle on the ready then. The morning isn’t a complete waste as the nice man in brown shorts delivered the new dish rack, shower organizer, juicer and cancer cookbook I ordered during CC’s class the other night—wooo Christmas in November!
Debra (CC’s pal from yoga) stops by with homemade squash soup and $98 Japanese prunes. Okay they were $16 but still—the carton was only 4x4x1. Inches. Not a crate like the Florida navels Grandma ships from Florida this time every year. Someone had insisted CC needed these precious prunes—they better be right! Debra also brings a fabulous lap desk for CC to use in bed. We continue to learn little helpful tricks and products to ease just a wee bit of the discomfort and misery that is Chemo Hell.
What’s the polar opposite of Chemo Hell? Walk on the beach! Walk on the beach! Walk on the beach! (See us in healthier days on our favorite spot in the world.) AND CC drove us there! This is the first time since D Minus One she’s felt up to driving. I think it lifts both our spirits.
With CC home to rest, I make my almost daily trek to Ralph’s and CVS half expecting to be greeted by name by now. I make a happy discovery at CVS—they have a great selection of Chards at great prices—way cheaper than Ralphs—woot! Although I still think it’s just plain weird that the CVS pharmacy doesn’t carry those little liquid medicine cups or spoons. Just syringes. Like a chemo patient wants to see another syringe on a daily basis? “Here CC, open up and let Karen squirt this yummy medicine in your mouth!” No thank you.
Evening, back at home, in PJ’s: Across the house I hear Leslie beating the magic bullet as we prepare for a “pay attention” movie. (as opposed to “background” movie.) That can only mean one thing: Wine refill! I scoot down the hall to the kitchen and see her pouring some type of protein shake concoction into a mug.
“What are we watching?”
“The good one,” she says with a slight smile and hint of mystery.
“The good one?”
“That’s all I can say.”
“Alright then, let’s do this,” I say raising my refilled glass. I revel in her returning spark of sassy and sense of control over little moments of a day… until Chemo Round 2 starts the downward spiral and steals it away from her all over again.