Chemo #13 and Julia's 7th Birthday

My big toenails have been purple for awhile, but now there's blood leaking out the sides.  That can't be good.  If I lose a toenail, I'll have to spend the sweltering Texas summer in closed toe shoes.  You can take away my eyebrows, my eyelashes, and my breast(s), but please, leave me my flip-flops!  I've been meaning to create a mantra to repeat during my cancer treatment, so this morning I've been muttering, "Hang on, toenails!  Never let go!"

Not one to rely on wishful thinking, I am also icing my feet during chemotherapy today.  I've been freezing my hands every week, but not my feet.  I didn't think Randalls sold ice bags large enough to freeze my size 12 wide feet.  Luckily I have a friend here today, so she's been running back and forth to the ice machine for me.

I also have concerning white spots on my sore thumb nails.  It doesn't help that I spent two hours last night peeling double-sided tape to create a magical "under the sea" birthday scene for Julia, who turned seven today.  It was worth the effort.  This morning, Julia said she could actually hear the ocean waves! 

There's been a lot of celebrating this week.  On Friday, Jeff and I attended a Loved Ones Lunch at Julia's school.  All of the first graders sang "Silly Love Songs" and showed off the portraits they had drawn of their loved ones.

And I was worried I wouldn't recognize mine.

Then we celebrated Mother's Day by waiting an obscenely long time for eggs Benedict.  I spent that time thinking about all of the kick-ass moms I've met who are going through cancer treatment while raising young children.  People are always impressed that I continue to parent.  Um, is there another option that I'm not aware of?  Someone still has to fix 23 snacks every day and get the Play-Doh out of the rug and read all seven Star Wars Golden Books at bedtime.  What, you think my kids are going to put their dirty socks in the hamper?  Ha!  Dads can only do so much because they can never find anything.  My Mother's Day gift was wrapped in an empty case of applesauce.  I asked Jeff why he didn't just use a gift box and he said, "Where do we keep the gift boxes?"  I told him, "In the gift wrapping cupboard," and he just stared at me.

After chemo last week, I had coffee with a mom friend who was also coming straight from treatment.  We chugged our extra-large coffees, and then she went home to take care of her toddler with an ear infection, and I went to pick up Julia and take her to gymnastics.  So much for taking it easy.  On TV, people on chemotherapy are always clinging to a toilet or practically bedridden.  They need a scene where the mom leaves chemo and then stays up all night hanging paper jellyfish from the ceiling.

3 more to go!



  1. Your ocean wonderland is amazing! As is Julia’s drawing of you!


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