Surprises

Surprises started on Thursday. One of the Bobbsey Twins called and said she wanted to come over and sing with me. "OK, come at 11 o'clock," I replied. Not really wanting to sing, as I felt so low, but I knew that it was to be, because she doesn't just call on a whim. She arrived with the other Twin. I cried a bit as I told them how discouraged I was and that I didn't want to cry too much; that I wanted to be faithful and not complain. We talked for awhile, and then I sat down at the piano and we sang together. I played with all my heart. I know it always does my spirit good, but to get me to do it is a chore. Just ask D., who has been urging me to play for years whenever I am down. I was encouraged by their visit, and I guess I encouraged them as well. Hugs all around and they left before 1 pm.

The next surprise: the phone rang. It was Natalie. "I've got good news, Mom. The airline company refunded the airmiles and the money." (This is a refund from the trip Doug and I booked to go and see Natalie last November, but we had to cancel due to my diagnosis. The airline company refused to give the money back, so we appealed the decision). We rejoiced together. "There's more, Mom – I'm coming home again. I can stay a month!" Well, my tears flowed once again. God was coming through for me today with encouragement. Every time I'm down, He shows up. I was so blessed to hear this and so encouraged. Filled with hope to have our daughter and grandson come and live with us again. To get up every morning and see that little face, see him learn how to walk and be part of his life. To have our daughter who is such a blessing to us be come home again. God is good. She will come in April sometime and stay into May. I was filled with hope – something good to look forward to. I took off to work on my quilt at the OT director's house. Mom, the rotary cutter, came over and cut borders for us. It was a good day.

Friday, the 13^th: a couple more surprises. Sometimes surprises are not that great. Arrived at 11:30 for my blood test. Then over to the Rehab to have lunch with Doug. Up to his office to wait to meet with Dr. Broad at 1 pm. I rested in a chair he has in the office. Now Doug's office has many machines and air handling units, ventilation ducts, low hanging things that one doesn't have in a normal living area. About 12:40, I decided to stand up. But I was forced back down, as I rammed my head into one of the low lying ventilation ducts. I grabbed my head with both hands, as my head pounded and the blood started to pour out of a gash on my bald head. Doug put his big dirty thumb on the wound and pressed hard to stop the bleeding, as I tried not to pass out from the pain. What to do? We needed to get down out of the penthouse, to the bathroom and walk a long distance over to the third floor of the hospital! We made it downstairs to the bathroom and I put a wet paper towel on my head and walked down to the end of the rehab so we could go through the pedway to the hospital. One of Doug's colleagues saw me coming, probably wondering, "what's on her head?" But instead, she said, "You look like Doug." "Yes, I do," I laughed. Then she realized that maybe I was offended by that, and said, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." "No problem," I replied, thinking 'that's the least of my worries, that I look like Doug, I need to get this wound treated!"

We made it to the oncology ward. "What happened to you?" they asked. "I hit my head," I replied, with a waiting room full of people looking at this crazy woman with a paper towel on her head. Audra the nurse took me in and dressed it with saline, then put a steri strip on it. Dr. Broad came out looking for me, as I was a bit late for my appointment due to my wound episode. "What happened to you?" she asked with a puzzled look on her face. It's not every day that patients arrive with paper towels on their heads. We went in to her office to find out another surprise: my cell count was very low, but my monocytes were up, so she said that Dr. Raza felt my white cell count would come up as well. Thus another blood test on Monday morning. Dr. Broad checked me over and we talked about the side effects of the next three rounds of chemo. I say that I don't need any of those side effects, so I'm not ordering any. Wouldn't you agree?

By this time it's around 2 pm. I thought I would be walking at Willie Wonka's by now, but alas, there was more. We left the unit once again (I feel like I've lived at the hospital this week). I decided that we should stop at the Medical Staff Office to show K. my head as I thought she would get a kick out of the fact that I hit my head. But she was on vacation and didn't get to see my lovely head. On the way, however, we met D., a friend who is a nurse. She was very concerned that I should have a tetanus shot since I don't ever remember having one in my life. She took us into her office, gave me some Tylenol for my aching head, and made some calls – to my family doctor, who was gone for the day, the emergency room, and then finally to the oncology unit. "Send her back up," they laughed and we'll get Dr. S. to order a tetanus shot. So up we went to the unit again. "What are you doing back here," from nurses and workers, and more laughter that I just didn't want to leave. I think I was the entertainment for the day.

We waited. The oncology pharmacist had to do some research as to whether I qualified to receive a tetanus shot or not. Dr. S., the other family oncologist, came out and said they decided that since my cell count was so low and the fact that the injection was intramuscular, that the risk was too high for receiving infection from the tetanus injection, plus I couldn't fight the invasion of tetanus anyway. She told me to stay away from sick people so I wouldn't get any microbes in my wound. I told her that I would have to stay away from Doug then, as he has a cold. She laughed and said for me to get rid of him or something like that. So, with that we left once again. By this time it was 3 pm! I was hoping for a good walk at Willie's, but went to Shoppers to take my prescription in, and to the Superstore for groceries, wondering what I was doing out with all these people with my legs feeling like jelly and my head aching. Wondering if I passed out in the grocery store if anyone would pick me up and wonder, "what is wrong with this bald headed woman with a deep gash in her head?" I think the blow affected my decision making skills, but I made it out of the store and home with the groceries. Sometimes you just have to keep going, no matter what. Plow through it.

So, surprise, surprise. Now it's Saturday, and I'm hoping that there are no surprises other than good ones. My sister Brenda comes tomorrow.

I pray that the next surprise will be that my white cells shoot through the roof on Monday morning and I can start chemo #4. And astound the doctors yet once again. Bless the Lord, O my soul.