Normalcy ( such as it is) comes in stages, I suppose. This week felt eternal while we tried to wrap our heads around the news. The weekend was a turning point, however, aided in no small part by a change in the weather.
I'm recovering from my surgery at RCH relatively well, and though still exhausted and sore I'm managing to slowly return to activities. They'd prescribed me T3s when I left, but I'm actually allergic to acetaminophen so I couldn't fill it; I'm happy to report that handling it with extra strength advil has been manageable, and I like not feeling overly medicated. The nights can be long though, between the pain and the restlessness; my imagination is overactive and anxious, so my dreams are not exactly soothing.
That being said, it was a good weekend. We got to go out for small spurts; we went to get some things in preparation for the big surgery ( comfy PJs, slippers and multivitamins), to have dinner with my baby sis who was returning to her school in Boston and to watch our son practice a little baseball in the park.
Today was the 4th anniversary of my Opa passing away, so it was a strange time of self-reflection too. Luckily we had our friends J & M come visit with a glorious pot pie and chili, and managed to get out for a short visit with P&P too, just a couple of blocks away. I was exhausted all of today, but socializing felt WONDERFUL. I guess I had worried ( after last week's breaking down on the phone to a couple of friends) that seeing friends again would be depressing. It wasn't - in fact it was quite the opposite. I'm reminded again how lucky we are to have such people in our lives, and what beacons of good humour and hope they are. :)
Our son got to play with his friends for a bit, and tested out telling them about his mom having cancer. It led to some interesting questions about my new belly button! :D For him it was wonderful to get to tell a friend and see how they'd react, I think, as well as just... forget about it for a while and just play and be a kid. A couple of days ago he sneezed, and then promptly told me :
" Don't worry mommy its probably just a tickle in my nose, I'm not catching cancer."
So it led to a discussion about how it wasn't something you can catch OR give to someone else, which I think reassured him. I think it will make talking to his friends about it ( if he chooses to) much easier. We have also talked to the school, and Chris will be having a longer talk with them tomorrow to see what support there is. He's a bright little guy, but I get the distinct impression he is trying not to worry -me-.
We have been talking about letting him come to Alberta just to see where I will be ( and the city as well) so that he has a clear idea of where it will all take place. I know first hand having a big imagination is a bit of a curse when you're picturing BAD things, so I want to make sure to avoid him as much anxiety about this as I can.
He still had some questions about the chemo, so I used the example of a game he loves, an app called "Where's my Water." In it there is this alligator in the sewers who just wants to take a shower with clean water. Unfortunately, there is also this invasive moss that grows unchecked if the water checks it, and this sort of purple goo that can vaporize the water --- but its also the one thing that destroys the moss so that the water can get through clean. I tried to explain to him that the PMP is sort of like that invasive moss, and the chemo is the goo that will help clear it all out and destroy it, so that my body can get the 'water' it needs to function.
He now believes that chemo is purple, of course.
Energy is still low, and I'm sleeping a lot. Recovering slowly but surely from this first part, and hopefully soon we will have more info on the CT scan and the referral. Chris' work has been amazing and supportive, and so far we have been able to balance things out somehow. Tomorrow I need to start figuring things out ( like the Power of Attorney, taxes) that we have to sort out before I have to head out.
Day by day...