Disconnected thoughts

There is something about the constant rhythm of that pump that I find haunting.  It has been several hours since I left the hospital and my mind still hears the swishing, slow, musical beat in the background.

Day one, round two was fairly un-eventful.  Six hours of chemo amongst 10 hours of visiting, chatting, laughing, napping, eating, and just being.

“Prof” answered all my questions in an email he wrote at  9:35 pm  last night.  I was impressed and thankful he’s invested in us.  “This is just how it goes sometimes….”  He has had much more complicated cases than this that have worked out fine.  We will stay the course for now but in 2-3 weeks re-evaluate the situation and may opt for surgery,  followed by more and different chemo. I trust him because I have no other option.

For the entertainment of the gaggle of young interns who came by her bed this morning, Arielle gave the impression that she was mortified that her mother had reached out to Prof on her behalf.  …but I could tell (as only someone with that maternal ESP thing going on can)  that she secretly liked that Mom had her back… just like in the old days.

A friend gave me an analogy today that really worked for me… maybe, he suggested, instead of my merely being a passenger on Arielle’s journey, I could be the big, warm, safe, chair in which she can snuggle up.  A chair where she knows she will always find peace and comfort.  A chair that’s always there, doesn’t move and is strong, safe and inviting.

I like the thought of that… It works for me.