This post is brought to you by the letter M. Specifically, Mariko, who lent me this computer upon which I am typing (my laptop is currently out of commission) and Megan, with whom I got to hang out and chat with last night. Both lovely ladies (and Brent) fed me and the girls (and Grandma Robin) yesterday as well, so thanks guys! I owe you both. And thanks to everyone else who has been helping us through the latest round of chemo and visiting Jeff.
Speaking of Jeff, he is doing pretty well. Once again, the oncologists have escalated his doses of chemo. He is seriously one tough cookie. This amounts to three escalations, one for each round of chemo, past the initial one, thus far. In terms of Jeff's general health, physical strength, and cancer-fighting prowess, this is a good thing. I will confess, however, that every time the dosage rises I worry about how he will feel when he gets home.
And this time around I am especially anxious for Jeff to come home and I'm worried about when he comes home. I haven't seen him since Friday because Lydia came down with her first little cold yesterday. She's doing pretty well, but looks rather sick. I believe this is because she used to have a clogged tear duct. It magically resolved on its own right around the time Jeff entered the hospital upon diagnosis. But her eye tends to rear its old nasty goopiness anytime she is even slightly congested, so the girl looks a little rough and weepy right now. Due to her sniffle and the conspicuous eye boogers, she needs to stay away from the hospital. I need to stay with her. So, we are separated from Jeff again. Thankfully Grandma Robin is here so she can hang with Jeff. Please send Lydia and the rest of us virus-killing, "get well" vibes so that we are healthy and don't make Jeff sick when he returns home immuno-compromised.
By now, months into this lymphoma battle, most everyone I know is in the loop about what's going on with our family. Almost every person I see on a regular basis either talks to me frequently, or reads the blog. Every so often though, I'll run into someone I haven't seen in several months. Usually the conversation starts with congratulations on Lydia, which is lovely, of course. And then I'm asked how things are going. I guess I could just deflect and try to make small talk, but that seems even more awkward, so I mention that Jeff has lymphoma. Cue the sad trumpet noise. Womp womp.
The worst incidence of this phenomenon occurred at our neighborhood coffee shop a few weeks ago. I saw a person I hadn't seen in some time and noticed that his beloved dog - a dog I actually quite admire and enjoy (which is saying something for me because I am NOT a pet person) - was not with him. I asked what was up and learned that the dog has cancer. Ugh. So terrible.
Then, of course, when I was asked about how we are doing, I mentioned that Jeff has cancer. Sucks. I didn't mean to sound at all like - "Well, you think your life is tough? My HUSBAND has cancer." - but that's kind of how it came out, regardless of my best intentions. It's just... awkward. That's all.
So, I will leave the awkwardness there and go clean the Nose Frida, which given Lydia's snottiness, is also saving the day around these parts as of late.