Chemo

patio in progress

My talent for research has deserted me when it comes to Kate's chemo drugs.

The regimen starts tomorrow - four doses, hopefully three weeks apart (assuming she's able to tolerate the drugs), of Taxotere and Cyclophosphamide. I tried to look up the side effects, so I could know what she's in for, but I found I couldn't do it.  I'd read a bit, picture the drugs going into Kate's veins, recoil instinctively, and quit reading.  I just couldn't do it.  I'll take it as it comes - I don't have to know in advance all the yucky stuff that could happen, because not all of it will.  I know the drugs will most likely help the cancer stay away, but the part between here and there is going to be not pretty.

But.

Her Christmas Elf struck again - this time with a daffodil bomb.
The kind people who help people with cancer showed up and cleaned her house today, so she won't have to feel bad tomorrow AND look at a mess.
There are other people lined up to do whatever she needs done if she feels awful.
She doesn't have to do this alone.

She doesn't have to do this alone.

that helps.  a lot.

I took all my excess energy on Saturday - and I have a lot of excess energy when mentally avoiding the picture of my daughter starting chemo - and dug a lot of the subgrade for my flagstone patio and path out back.  (Joe was helping with the project, but spent much of the day on parts of it that didn't involve shoveling.)  I can't do it as fast as he does, but I was steady, working my anger at the fates out on the poor defenseless dirt.  It's amazing what a mess one can make with a shovel and six hours.  I think the entire back yard is going to get raised a couple of inches by the time I get the dirt spread out.

Exercise helps, too.

She will make it through this.
We will make it through this.

God Is.