Still on Holiday

January 14, 2009

Taking a break from chemo is just like slumming the French Riviera, hitting the slopes in Vail, then flying up to Nova Scotia to see the eclipse. Well, not so much. But, it beats five full days in clinic, transfusions, neutropenia, and feeling punk. In addition, we have

• avoided official trips to Houston. For honesty sake I will admit that I drove a load of much needed stuff down to Davis last Saturday, but a unofficial Houston trips seemed much less burdensome than our usual kind. Erin, by the way, refused to tag along, insisting that I drop add a little time and distance to my roundtrip by dropping her off at her Aunt Jan's, while I slogged on alone;
• avoided official and unofficial trips to clinics or hospitals of any kind;
  
• made it to school or work ON TIME every day; and
  
• celebrated Erin's first "no-absences-for-an-entire-week" of the school year last Friday.

Erin looks and feels well. I'm amazed at how much better she looks and feels than when I have claimed this at different times over the last few months. I didn't intend to prove relativity, but really your point of comparison really matters. If, like me, you are optimistic by nature, you work very hard to notice the good, the smiles, the energy, the spunk of your sick child when it reveals itself. Clearly, with chemo out of her system, I don't have to look as hard. Erin has a lot more spark and verve.

I understand she stayed up at Sam's sleepover until 4:47 Saturday morning and got up before the other slumberers a few hours later (I think 9:30ish). She didn't go back to bed AND she wasn't cross.

I did pick her up early from school yesterday, on principle rather than on reason. The school has benchmark testing as a dress rehearsal to TAKS later this spring. They are very strict about testing conditions, and no one is allowed to leave their classroom (or really even their seat) or to speak until every one of the more than 800 students have finished the exam. Erin finished about 10:30, and I didn't have the heart to leave her sitting there until a quarter to four. I let her cool her jets until after lunch (they deliver lunch to the rooms so no one has to move a muscle), then picked her up. We finalized our purchases for Walter's upcoming birthday, and I let her make shortbread cookies (from scratch) to take to school this morning (another violation of district policy, I'm sorry to say. . .no non-nutritious snacks and nothing baked in home kitchens).

Even though the testing scenario is the same today as yesterday, Erin stayed the full measure so she could go to her student council meeting after school. I think we'll go to the fused glass jewelry wrokshop at the church tonight to round out our day.

What does the rest of the week hold? Piano after school tomorrow and a three-day weekend on the horizon. We turned down tickets to the inauguration because I thought we would just be hitting our stride on the post-chemo ditch next Tuesday. Do I have regrets? Not really. We'll get to DC sooner or later this spring. For now I am enjoying that time called "normal" that until recently I only experienced as a setting on my washer.

If you dropped by to hear all about our next new treatment plan, sorry to disappoint. You know as much as I do (unless you are Dr. Russell, lurking out there in the blogosphere) which is nothing. No timeline, no decision trees, no pre-set triggers. You know I'll post when we have a plan or even the semblance of a plan.

Did I mention that you didn't need to worry about me figuring out what to do last Friday? Let's just say I figured it out. I will share that I had leftover beef stroganoff for breakfast. . .something I would never get away with the fam at home.