Arielle didn’t sleep well last night.
Early this morning they moved her (and her new friend, Misbah) onto a larger ward and they got the last two, crap beds available. Which would you choose, a bed with a view of London, or a view looking directly into the communal bathroom? Yes, even on the oncology ward it’s all about location, location,location.
Her hair, now falling out much more noticeably, reminds me of the leaves that fell so gracefully from the oak trees back in New England, in the autumn. The tiny hairs float off her head as she moves.
Today she experienced the joy of unexpectedly vomiting in her mouth, which hey, has happened to all of us at least once, right?)
To add insult to injury, it took over 30 minutes and two nurses to find a good vein for the chemo port.
…it was then 11:00 am.
The afternoon didn’t bring much of a change. She became very uncomfortable and felt really poorly, about an hour after chemo started. She complained of being cold and tired and I could see her shrinking back into the little girl, she once was.
As she laid there all curled up in a ball, all I could do was stroke her forehead and the sides of her cheeks. The last thing she said before she closed her eyes and fell off to sleep was, “Don’t touch the hair.” I could only smile at her spirit and sense of humour, that was shinning through even now.
Today was the first day, as I sat at the side of her bed stroking her forehead, I had to fight, with every fiber of my being, to hold back the tears.
…time was now 1:47
The rest of this very long and difficult day was spent sleeping, being nauseous, reading, talking, texting, resting and again, just being.