January 13 and 14

Wednesday: The webpage I'm supposed to have on the school website seems not to have posted but I may have misunderstood it. How can I ever remember the billion steps it takes just to update that thing? And I did the most perfunctory job on it. I barely got it done. But I have had to call in our gracious and patient tech guy to help me try it again. This is one of those small, annoying stressors that frustrate me, something I don't need at this time in my life.

I took the great pistachio brittle Laura and I had made and shared it with my grade level during lunch. It is beyond fabulous. I'm glad it's out of the house, especially since you met with the physician who specializes in nutrition for cancer patients in the afternoon. I was worried you'd come home with a long list of weird, specialized foods you had to eat and then insist we throw out everything I like to eat. Fortunately, it's not too obscene. We have to shop at Trader Joe's and Whole Foods because the main thing we have to do is not eat food with growth hormones or additives. We can do that. The hard part for you will be cutting red meat down to once a week. But in thinking about it, I remember how much we used to use ground turkey, and that isn't difficult. We barely noticed the difference in taste.

We went to our respective cancer support groups. You say you really, really enjoy yours. They look like a nice group of kind and intelligent guys. My group is full of nice caregivers but there's a small part of me that doesn't want to be in another support group because of an issue of yours. I have done that a lot over the past twenty five years. I also am not so thrilled about it because the ones whose cancer partners are farther along than you are, are suffering a lot. Their lives are unpleasant. They have to do things like change diapers and catheters. They have to advocate for their partners, make doctor appointments, fight with insurance companies, and do all the driving, meal preparations and cleaning. Those aren't pleasant. I don't like hearing about them. I don't want them to happen to me. After the groups end, you stay around and talk; I walk out the door and go home. I've had enough 'cancer talk' by then.

One couple in our groups was celebrating their forty-second wedding anniversary. They are so cute. Whenever they look at each other, you can see that they love each other so much, even after all these years. They have such tenderness and affection in their eyes. You found out that they were college sweethearts. I am glad he has a good prognosis; she would be lost without him.

Thursday: We were supposed to go pick up the car today. It's been at the shop for a week now. I got up early, showered, washed my hair, and woke you when I thought it was time. You said maybe you'd get Carmi to take you up to get the car. It was okay with me because I don't like the running around. You said you'd pick me up for lunch if you could but that you might have to get your blood tests redone so the results would be ready before you went for chemo.

You made it to get me. We went for pizza. While we were waiting for our food, you said you'd found out that 'chemo brain' can last for a year. You also told me to tell you to stop driving crazy if you start. (This is a big change. I call your driving 'Mr. Toad's Wild Ride'.) You said you are realizing that your chemo is causing your reaction times to be a little less sharp than usual, not bad, you're just not as quick as you have been. You also said you were driving with David the other day and you got a taste of what I feel like when you drive aggressively, although I don't think you'd ever admit to the term 'aggressive'. You were very nervous with his impulsiveness and quick moves. I think you really got it. I liked having lunch with you. I think maybe your cancer support group is giving you an appreciation for our relationship. My cancer group is giving me an appreciation for how independent you are. I am so glad you are such a strong advocate for yourself.

This afternoon you went for chemo. Again, it took a long time, even though you arrived really early for your appointment. I know that frustrates you. You are a little tired, there are dark circles around your eyes, and you look pale.

Things seem to be working with Dad here. I don't feel bothered by his presence, and I like it when I can go out to see him, and then just close the door behind me when I'm done. He is trying his subtle ways to control things, but I think the physical boundary created by the door is giving me the strength to construct other, non-physical boundaries. At the root of some of Dad's comments is a hidden agenda to know exactly where we are going and when. I have decided he doesn't need to know. My cancer group leader says I am creating all kinds of boundaries; I agree with her. I am creating them with Dad, with my students, and with you. She also told my group three things that happen to cancer patients and their families: 1) unwanted aloneness, 2) hopelessness and, 3) loss of control. They happen in different ways for the patients than for the families but to both nonetheless. We also talked about 'anticipatory grief' and 'new normals'. It is interesting and sad stuff.

There was a fundraiser at a local Mexican restaurant for school tonight. You didn't want to go so I went with Carolina. I am home and tired. I am frequently tired.