Charly and I went to chemo early Monday morning. Since
she was going to have a lumbar puncture, which means she cannot eat until they
are done, I scheduled it to be the first appointment of the morning.
Combined with the Daylight Savings time change, the 8am appointment was a
little early. We still got there on time, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Charly's oncologist asked for her to walk down the hallway
for him without her boots on, so he could see if the Vincristin had affected
her feet. Some kids experience a side effect from the chemo that makes
them walk funny. Charlotte did NOT want to walk out of the patient
operatory down the hallway. We cajoled, begged, and offered to hold her
hand, or to model walk with her. The input nurse that weighs Charlotte
even joined in. Charlotte backed herself against the sink and refused to
leave. "I'll walk in here" she offered, but the room is barely
12 feet long, nowhere near long enough for the doctor to evaluate her gait.
Finally, a nurse very familiar with Charlotte's love of crafts, suggested she
walk to see if there was a new craft packet at the front table.
Charlotte informed her she already checked the table, and had taken the
last packet. The nurse suggested there might have been more put out and
that Charlotte should go see. Charlotte walked to the table, saw there
were NO PACKETS, and stomped back to the operatory. She wrapped her arms
around me and began to cry silently. Which led the odd combination of
feeling like the meanest person ever and wanting to laugh at the same time.
The oncologist declared her walk perfect and gave her a pat on the back.
I could tell me felt the same way - wanting to laugh and feeling like a
trickster.
Charlotte quickly rebounded when I suggested she share a
joke with the medical crew - What do you have when two cats fight?
A CATastrophe.
We gathered our stuff up and crossed the hall for the LP.
After the lumbar puncture, Charlotte received some crackers and cheese
slices while she received another increased dose of methotrexate and
vincristine.
Her counts were excellent (which is why they increased her
chemo again). Mom mentioned that Heather and Elisa were thinking to take
their kids to the zoo on Friday if the weather was good. She asked me if
Charly could go too. Sean said he thought she was supposed to stay away
from animals. I told him the only notice I received was to beware the
swine flu at the Utah State Park. I double-checked with Charly's
oncologist, and he said "take her to the zoo and have fun!" On
the way home, I knew I had to go get some stuff at Costco. I mentioned to
Charly that I'd drop her home before I went. "Oh PLEASE TAKE ME WITH
YOU!" I figured if the zoo was okay, then I could take her to Costco
at 11:30 on a Monday morning. - of course, neurotic cancer mom reared her head
and told Charlotte - no food samples and don't touch anything and touch your
mouth or face after. When we get home, you have to promise to wash your
hands right when we walk in! (Let's face it, cancer warps you.
Don't get me started on the new thoughts about how germ infested the
sacrament trays probably are. I try not to dwell on it too much, because
it would make you afraid to leave the house.) Charlotte enjoyed the
30-minute Costco run beyond reason, and declared the day to be THE BEST DAY
EVER! I admit, having my littlest helper with me again made it feel like
it was the best day ever too.
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