Last night, we cleaned up the supper dishes, took the towels out of the dryer, and helped the children with their showers. Then we all put on pjs, climbed into the big bed to watch cartoons together, and I took my first three chemotherapy pills. My husband put his arm around me and said, “Thank you. Thank you for doing this for our family.”
and we all snuggled, watching Tom and Jerry discover silly green aliens on Mars while we waited for my body to react to the chemo pills.
This morning’s routine was not nearly as much of a ritual, squeezed in between showers and timed after breakfast and before we got distracted by the children’s needs.
So far, so good. I’m not reacting violently to the xeloda, which is fantastic. My oncologist says that we’ll know how I respond after a week, in terms of side effects, and after three weeks, in terms of white blood counts (that fight infection) and liver counts (which can be damaged by the treatment). So today I rest, and watch, and pick blackberries from the garden with the children.
My body now has the tools to fight the cancer.
Six pills down, 498 to go.
(I promise not to blog every pill. This is just new to me, and I want to remember how it all started. Thanks for bearing with me, and for your lovely comments. I try to comment back and visit your blog in return, but if it takes a few days, please forgive me!)