Day Two (part one)

Don't freak out-- this is not a photo of Peg's setup, just some weird thing I snagged off the Web. Her IV drip has three dispensing units contained in a gizmo the size of eight lunchboxes lashed together, about four feet off the floor on a six-wheeled stand.  It weighs a lot.  But Peg pushes it down the hallways for exercise, and pulls it into the bathroom sans assistance.  She's determined to do as much for herself as she can.  Peg's no weenie.

Today, at her request, we brought her an art box with Sculpey and tools, a sketch pad and colored pencils, and a portable DVD player with assorted chick flicks (her beloved "Pride and Prejudice," "Sliding Doors," and "Shakespeare In Love").  

As I write this, she's getting the second infusion of chemo, which is a direct chug-a-lug into her abdomen.  She'll lie on her back for a couple of hours, shifting positions every fifteen minutes. This is where the rubber meets the road, or more accurately, where the chemo meets the tumors the surgeon felt he couldn't remove safely during the surgery.

Needless to say, we won't miss the little bastards.