The days I’ve been having – they’re just not normal days. It was good to have Mom here accompanying me through them, so that she could see objectively that things are cuckoo. I feel that the universe sent me one very bad thing and ever since has been flinging at me, very much at random and with great frequency, particles of good, particles of great, and particles of WTF awesome. The order of these miracles are not just nice things being done for me – and there are legions of those – but also some very simple space/time continuum coincidences that are becoming harder and harder to imagine are totally at random.
Even under normal circumstances, this constant barrage of good might strain credulity; under extreme sleep deprivation conditions, you do tend to believe a grip on reality could start to turn tenuous. It’s very, very nice to have 10,000 unbelievably great things happen between breakfast and dinner, but what happens when they start to happen daily?
My night of sleep was magical. Then we went to brunch with Mom, I made a more sensible choice than the outrageous whipped cream/chocolate/nutella pancakes that were calling my name, and the sun was shining. Today was my first day out as GIANT HAT LADY. Dabrafenib makes your skin much more susceptible to the sun. And if you hadn’t noticed, the sun is how I got here in the first place. (The 1970s sun, but still.) So I hit up Marshall’s yesterday, and found an unusually good selection of hats. I’m glad I’m wearing my hair short these days. I’ve got one enormous blue one with a brim that extends past the Cape of Good Hope, a more casual straw cowboy hat for outdoor happy hour (accepting invites), and a huge black Betsey Johnson one for fancy. J called it my Easter hat. Yikes.
After brunch, the kids went to the next block over with their bikes. Street fair day, and a whole block with no cars. I didn’t join them, but coming home and lying down and just thinking of them zooming around carefree lifted me up.
The kids went out to a sleepover at J’s parents, and I accompanied Mom to her bus. I usually drive her. I don’t drive often in the city and when I have the opportunity to go to midtown via the West Side Highway, I always love it. Perversely. Despite all the traffic. It induces brief fantasies of cab driving as profession. And on the way back home I blast music like a 17-year-old.
Turns out I’m not going to be driving for a bit. Something to do with my brain not being all right in the head. I was a little surprised to hear months as the length of the restriction Nurse Practitioner K gave me, but luckily, we live in a city, our car is a luxury for out of town trips, and J can move it for street cleaning.
I consulted the subway website to inform myself well ahead of time. New readers – who, by the way, are WELCOME – may wish to familiarize themselves with the last time I accompanied Mom to her bus while on cancer. (Mom, let me explicitly warn you that since you lived this experience with me, you are not obligated to read that post ever again.)
Today went better. Much, much better. But there were still a few of those weird little moments, like Mom not telling me until we were walking directly in front of the Garden that my brother G and his family were back home hosting a party to watch the Rangers-Capitals game that was on the Jumbotron right across the street. I texted G a photo of the Jumbotron. I think the score was 0-2 at that point. I hope it got better for your Caps…
After leaving Mom, and under the influence of lunchtime steroid, I did some pretty dedicated clothes shopping on 34th St. 60% of my haul for the boys, of course. Only the best t-shirts in the world will make things right. Came home, found my completed coffee punch card and cashed in for an iced decaf to carry over to the street fair. Bought the only plants my dark balcony will accommodate, coleus and impatiens, and carried them home.
It was dark and quiet at home, and I found some friends sent me lovely hemp lotion and mint lip balm all the way from Whidbey Island, WA.One of my main goals this week had been to moisturize, actually. And I was so relaxed, I didn’t even mind being confronted with the kitchen table piled with Lego. Young A is hard at work on his first big build, and it can stay til tomorrow.