Air Bubble!

I am starting to recognize the return of a sense of humor. Be it ever so dark, it is there and I've been able to make myself laugh even when no one else thinks it's funny. A few weeks ago, I was talking with my nurse while she was starting my infusion. I still receive two cancer specific drugs every three weeks that I will probably get for the rest of my life, so a few years or so.... (See? that's sort of funny right? Dark, but funny...ish, not really? I'm a work in progress). Anyway, we were sharing a little nurse humor about sometimes you forget to explain something and the patient starts to freak out because you did a poor job at preparing them for what's to come. You see that concern on their face and then have to back pedal because you forgot to tell them you're going to hook them up to a machine with a bunch of wires that looks like something out of Aliens. Just at that moment, as my nurse hooked me up to my IV, I exclaimed "IS THAT AN AIR BUBBLE?" Sure enough there was a small air bubble in my line. By the way, this is not a big deal. We try very hard to keep our lines clear of air but the truth is, you can take a significant air bubble in a closed system and still be okay. It's frightening for non-medical folks and we do our best to alleviate our patient's fears. However, when you are already freaking out about having your appendix out, a bubble seems like a really big deal. To be clear, pushing air through a syringe, will really mess you up, but a small bubble in 17cc's of IV line is not a biggie.

Anyway, after I exclaim "AIR BUBBLE", my nurse jumps about ten feet and then looks at me and we both start cracking up hysterically. "Bahahaha, air bubble! Good one!" I was laughing so hard, I was crying. The timing couldn't have been more perfect and the two of us were in stitches. There were other patients in the room looking at us like we were crazy. Of course we told the story to every nurse that walked in the room who proceeded to laugh hysterically as well, and we all looked like a bunch of crazies laughing about a potentially life-threatening situation.

That's sort of how my humor is returning. It's dark but it's there and that's a comfort.

Other things are returning as well. I can type without pain or discomfort which is "handy." My appetite has returned although my tastebuds have yet to cooperate, and my digestive system is working a little better. How do I know? Well, no more heartburn and the plumbing seems to be working a little more efficiently. My brain is coming back to life and the fog is lifting ever so slowly. Energy is still an issue and my balance is wonky. Maybe because my leg muscles are so atrophied? (or six months of chemo? Yeah, that's prolly it) Not sure, but I'll take feeling a little better without freaking out about atrophy and balance. It takes time to come back from the dead.

And speaking of coming back from the "mostly dead" (shameless Princess Bride reference), I am starting to be pretty excited about living my life. We won't know for a few months where we are on the continuum. I will get scans in May to make sure all is going well. Remission is presumed, but assumed. I figure I have between now and May to cram in some tropical vacations and a few soccer games. I got big plans to get on snow and maybe hop in my kayak. However, my husband slaps my head and reminds me that I should wait to fun hog until I can get from the bedroom to the kitchen without having to stop and rest. Of course, I would be fighting cancer during the biggest snow year and highest river flows in twenty years...<sigh>
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My face still feels puffy and I lost my last eyelash so my eyes look small and sunken in. I'm getting my Uncle Fester on. Still bald as a cue ball, and yes, the carpet matches the drapes or should I say the hard wood floors?  They should use it as a selling point. Free Brazilian with six months of chemo! Except with all operations shut down to avoid unnecessary and unwelcome infection, it's sort of a cruel joke. But it's all changing. I am looking forward to that full-body, five o'clock shadow and the accompanying itch that always comes when you're standing in line at Target. It's yet another reminder that I am still here, still dreaming of one day seeing my kids make it through high school, my husband on a boat in the South Pacific and my friend, G. Widroe, teaching me to surf the dog on a river board. So many fun things ahead and I'm starting to feel the return of optimism and excitement from the anticipation that there's still time.