What's in Your Pocket?

March 5, 2009

I'm not really a purse kind of girl. I have one. I usually leave it locked in my van. I prefer pockets.

Erin and I had a lot of running around to do yesterday. For the second day in a row, she went to school for half a day (more on that later). After school, she went to piano lessons. Then we picked up Walter from work to go to dinner and our classes (Spanish for me and Walter, fused glass jewelry making for Erin) at the church.

Part way through dinner I checked my pockets. Here's what I had:

• keys and cell phone (both standard and always there).
• a tiny key on a corgi key chain that turns on the electric cart that our gracious next door neighbors lent Erin so she could navigate the hallways at Jane Long and get back to school faster.
  
• a very large amount of money in the form of a couple of checks that generous donors had given me over the course of the day for their lanyards.
  
• a bottle of morphine. Erin started taking a half tablet of morphine last week so that she could sleep comfortably at night in a reclining position. In Erin, morphine has a three hour lead time (that is, it takes three hours after she takes it before she feels the effects), therefore if she wants to go to bed at 9:00, I need to give it to her at 6:00.
  
• a Polly Pocket wearing a stylish green rubber suit. She belonged to my niece Emma, and I had grabbed her off the floor and stuffed her into my pocket as I left the house to keep Willie from. . .well, you know.
  
• the end cap to a heparin syringe I had flushed Erin's PICC line with that morning
  
• a crumpled receipt from Shakes where Erin and I stopped for ice cream treats between piano and picking up Walter
• a cute note from one of Erin's teachers saying what a fine student she was.

I'm not sure what I used to carry in my pocket. I know earlier in the day I had cubed smoked turkey in a zip-loc bag, a note from the radiation oncologist excusing Erin from school, some crumpled tissues that Erin has no compunction against handing me when she has finished using them whether I have somewhere to dispose of them or not, a flat rock for skipping, a pair of screws that I had picked up walking down the road so I wouldn't blow out a tire on them later, a check for the piano teacher for the month of March, and a CD of The Beatles Magical Mystery Tour that Erin listened to during her radiation session. I also had the key to Walter's car, since we were sharing yesterday (Davis has taken my car camping at Mo Ranch).

I guess these things capture my day as well as anything. Actually, they capture a day with a cancer kid pretty well. Big things, little things, important things, trivial things, things we are grateful for, and things we wish we didn't have to carry. All parts of our lives.

On another note, radiation has gone smoothly. We saw the doctor today. He thought radiation was helping, so we will continue on with the plan for the course to last ten days. We're going to take tomorrow off and finish off with Monday through Wednesday sessions next week. The reason for an off day: the beautiful weather and increased mobility has lured Erin outside over the past few days and triggered a good amount of snot to form in her sinuses. A productive cough has replaced her tumor-induced one, and her red throat makes swallowing a bit tougher. We all figured giving her a three-day weekend would help all around.

Overall, Erin is sleeping a little better, moving a little better, breathing a little better. Still not enough stamina for a full day of activities. In fact, her burst of activities yesterday afternoon and evening translated into a very slow start this morning.

Keep letting me know if you have lanyard orders. We have a system set up (Walter has been very patient with our semi-permanent set up in the great room that takes up the entire drop leaf table and china hutch) and are beaving away at our back orders. Local folks are welcome to join us whenever they feel the urge for lively conversation and some handiwork.