We spent the weekend gutting out and rearranging my upstairs spare room so I can have a quiet place to hang out while I go through months of chemo. Furniture got rearranged, bookshelves erected and filled with all my cartoon art, we put part of the sectional sofa up there. Everyone helped out.
In fact, we're all as ready for this thing to begin as any family could be. The boys understand the down side as well as the optimism. They are asking how I'm feeling and what they can do. Even Doc wants to get over his persistent cough before I get my first dose. Friends and family are prepared to take kids when needed, cook meals, and help out. My mom and brother are traveling 300 miles to visit this weekend - primarily because I think mom needs to physically prove to herself that I'm still here and can get through this thing.
Now it seems we're just waiting for next week when the hospital will pump me full of 6 hours worth of poison. Like waiting for a storm to break, we don't know how bad it will be but we'll weather whatever comes. It feels like we're waiting for black Christmas. No presents, no tree, no mistletoe but lively anticipation for a date certain.
I just want to get on with it. But when you're facing the devil, maybe you shouldn't be so eager.
