Erin's blood counts held steady over the last week, helping us to accept that the ditch we hit a week and a half ago was infection related and not tumor related. Everyone who sees her remarks how well she looks. Next Thursday's scans will, of course, show the truth, but I have not started the worryfest. Everything is going too well to run over that already flat rabbit again. Erin lives large considering she is in the midst of her fifteenth month in a row on chemo since relapse.
Last Friday, as the finale to her creative arts camp, Erin performed in the festive, yet poignant, production of "Fat, Fat Jehosophat!" She sang and danced and smiled the whole time. Now, I have to confess, what I knew about Jehosophat before last Friday would have fit in Erin's Barbie's thimble (that would be the now passé Seamstress Barbie). Apparently, Jehosophat was a righteous OT king who required prayer (sincere, heartfelt prayer) from his soldiers before battle. After praying and fasting too long enough to become "Flat, Flat Jehosophat (what a side benefit), his enemies attacked and vanquished each other. Now, I don't know if that sort of dedication could protect folks over in Lebanon or Iraq, but there is a good chance the prayers laid out by our wonderful friends at the Methodist church where Erin had camp last week kept the germs at bay. Pretty good deal!
Last weekend we did our usual weekend stuff, plus a couple of other things. The Tjoelkers made it back to town after their two plus week odyssey to Pittsburg, via Columbus, Ohio (hurray, we survived, although, unfortunately the triops didn't). They made it back just in time for our annual Christmas party Saturday night. Luckily, one of the boys received a new package of triops to start. Quelle coincedence.
Perhaps I toasted too many times on Saturday night because I was barely fifteen minutes into my soccer game on Sunday afternoon when I began feeling very unfit. I tried to pawn it off on the 104 degree weather, but no one was buying it. In the end, I didn't throw up; I did finish the game thanks to strategically placed water breaks; and we only lost 1-0 (our slimmest margin of loss all season).
Davis practiced hard at becoming a college student over the weekend. Rice requires incoming students to read several articles and summit two directed essays about the readings so that someone can determine which English class they should enroll in. They have three days to get it done, and (stereo)typically Davis took it down to the wire. Just when he was on the brink of having to submit a pile of c*&#, the Rice server experienced technical difficulties and the deadline was extended another sixteen hours, giving him a do over instead of the object lesson as I had hoped. Oh well, I have always said it's better to be lucky than good (though perhaps he'd be better off adhering to the corollary that it's best to be both good and lucky).
Wednesday found us heading towards Houston for a non-medical trip. Erin went to spend the day with Aunt Quin at her Education Through Music colloquium. I think they had a blast singing and cavorting and cutting up all day. Davis went along so we could travel in the HOV lane, and also to meet one of his new Rice roommates, Ryan. Ryan's going to run track for Rice next year, and being athletic is only one of many things they seem to have in common. I think it took a lot of the pressure and mystery away for Davis to meet his roommate face-to-face and discover that he wasn't a complete (or even partial) weirdo.