First time harvesting the garden

She felt well enough to harvest some veggies and has been up most of the day, reading and being able to sit up for extended periods for the first time in weeks. Gleefully whomped down the yummy mashed taters and gravy our friend Traci dropped off.

Hope you enjoy this walking tour of the garden, which I recorded tonight just before sunset:

Good news today

Dr. B. feels like Peg got a full dose of chemo last week and doesn't need to do the next round until a week from next Wednesday.  We were expecting her to be hospitalized overnight-- had her bag packed-- but she's having lunch here at the house as I write this.

This is the part of the treatment cycle where she'll feel better over the next few days and put some weight back on.  Dr. B. recommended mashed potatoes with butter and sour cream.  I concur with the doctor and look forward to whippin' 'em up from scratch... I think the last time we had mashed taters here was about a year ago.

Another bit of good news is that for the next round of chemo, the plan is for her to be treated in the outpatient clinic on a four-hour IV drip.  So potentially, no hospitalization for the next few weeks. Yay!

Peg was out in the garden today

Peg spent about 20 minutes with Zoë collecting veggies and dead-heading flowers.  She tends to push the envelope, which will help in her recovery, but leaves her a little short of breath in the meantime.  I have to remind her she doesn't need to do everything, by herself, all at once.  She's skinnier but entirely full of p**s and vinegar. 

Zoë and I prod her into eating every two hours, because she has a diminished appetite and a need to bulk up.  Peg's even requested something we all agreed was as dangerous as Plutonium in our house and agreed to banish a few months ago-- Trader Joe's Frozen Macaroni & Cheese.  How many calories per serving?  Don't ask.  Seriously.  Peg needs the protein, and I'm willing to latch on to a convenient excuse to indulge in the penultimate Mac n' Cheese Experience.  "Yeah, Peg, I'm whompin' this down... for you. Yeah, that's the ticket..."

It was great to see her outside today in the waning afternoon sun.  What a radically different experience than being hermetically sealed inside an oncology wing of a hospital, 400 feet inside a winding air conditioned corridor, ten miles and 400 carpeted feet from the rich earthiness of the garden we've created as a family.

Peg's home, for now

We busted her out of The Joint at 5pm with Dr. B's blessing.  She's tired, but the color is back in her cheeks.  She was able to get another paracentesis at 2:30pm-- 3.1 liters this time.

She's not experiencing any nausea, but has heavy-duty prescription anti-nausea pills on hand if she needs them.  She'll rest at home until Thursday morning, when we'll head back out to Roseville for a consultation with Dr. B to determine if she'll do the abdominal port or the 24-hour drip.  So she could be home again Thursday afternoon, but at the latest Friday midday.

Then she's here for 12 days before being hospitalized again for the next round.  This will be the rhythm of our lives for the next four or five months: Peg in for 4 days, out for 3, in for 1, out for twelve.  

Today's our 22nd wedding anniversary

Peg and I were joking this morning by phone about our "romantic getaway," visiting in a hospital. There will be time enough for us to celebrate properly.  But on this day it's good to remember that Peg is on her way to recovery, our marriage is strong, and we have a beautiful daughter and cherished friends and family.  

I thought you'd enjoy seeing some of our wedding photos.  We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout (no, sorry, that's a line from an old Johnny Cash song).  We got married in the outdoor courtyard of a little French restaurant in Denver.  Peg's friend Gail's husband was a Methodist minister, so we asked him to perform the ceremony, although neither of us are Methodists.

Our wedding cake was a pyramid.  I fabricated the bottom layer out of foam core, and the support shelves from Plexiglas.  The woman who baked the cake estimated that the bottom layer alone would have fed 200 guests, and we only had 110, so she frosted what was essentially an upside down box.  That's Margie, Peggy's maid of honor, on the right. 

We took the photo of our wedding rings a few days after the ceremony, hiking at 11,000 feet in Peg's beloved Rocky Mountains.  I think it says a lot about our new life together.  Hold hands. Aim high.  And breathe.

Day 3 (the great escape)

By the time Security caught up with her, she was halfway across the parking lot, sprinting behind her IV cart, hospital gown flapping in the wind...

Just kidding.  Too hot for that anyway (93 degrees at 8pm).  But she's got a lot of energy.  Zoë and I motored around the hospital hallways with her tonight.  She's tethered to an IV stand, but it doesn't slow her down a whole lot.  She slings it into the bathroom, shoved it aside to retrieve a dropped pen, and is adept at maneuvering it around the tight space between her bed, the wheeled table-thingy that swings over the bed, and the sofa-bed against the wall.

My moment of Zen: when we arrived, Peg was sitting in the chair, eating dinner, with the IV cart coincidentally parked in front of her as if she were watching a TV show instead of a glowing digital readout.

I asked if she'd watched any TV (the only show we watch at home is The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, about twice a week).  She said she tried out the remote and got stuck on a weird hospital channel with nonstop video of a fish tank with horribly bland "uplifting" music, which she imagined must be one of the punishments inflicted in hell. Have you ever seen Kenny G and Satan in the same room?  Think about it.

Dr. "B," her oncologist, is on call this weekend, so if Peg needs anything, her own doc will be there.  Big fan of Dr. Bobolis.

Tomorrow and Sunday Zoë will be in Woodland (about an hour from here) at Swim League Championships.  I will be catching up on three weeks of postponed client projects.  And our sweet Peggy will be mentally plotting her escape from the Joint.  She'll be home a week from today.

Day Two (part 2)

It took five hours last night to finish the chemo drip, but by 11pm they were done and Peg had a good night's sleep.

She asked that when Zoë and I come out that we bring some 14 gauge wire, wire cutters and pliers.  She wants to make an armature for a sculpture made of Sculpey (colored clay that hardens in the oven).  As anyone who's seen her little creations knows, she's really got a gift for it.