The reality of being a mom going through cancer treatment has so far not lived up to my fears. It’s absolutely all about the support I float on. Instead of being overwhelmed when I get hit with some fatigue or general chemo crummies, I feel quiet. And quiet is what my children need from this mom.
Boy, do they like the quiet attention.
Some of my achi-est days are some of our best days. Delphine talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks …
Have I mentioned that Delphine likes to talk?
And she doesn’t lick her hands anymore.
And she doesn’t need to pee every five minutes anymore.
And she doesn’t have trouble getting to sleep or staying asleep anymore.
Delphine has been more worried about her mom ‘changing’ than anything else and she focused on the physical changes that would happen to me. Now that her fears have materialized, she’s doing really well.
She still feels some stress. The other day, she asked me a question that required a ten word answer and I launched into a 10 minute discourse of the world-according-to-Suzy. It’s enough to send almost anyone sneaking quietly out of the room.
And that’s what she did. I told her she I know I can get annoying like that, but she needs to just tell me. Because when she left without telling me, she hurt my feelings.
We’ve actually had this discussion before — because, well, I’m incorrigible.
This time she burst into tears.
Paul, ironically, has been more worried about the big traditional things — death and illness — and how they might affect him.
He’s been worried about his preschool teacher having ‘a cancer’ (He doesn’t. He just wears a bald head as a fashion choice.). He’s asked his papa if he was going to die and when. He’s asks
his little 3 and 4-year-old friends what their mothers and siblings would do if they died.
Yesterday, he looked at my earrings (Earrings are a new chemo thing for me. I stopped wearing earrings when Delphine became old enough to grab.) and he said “When I grow up, Maman, I’m not going to get pierced ears.”
“You don’t want pierced ears?”
“And,” he says, “I’m not going to get a cancer either.”
“OK” I say.
Canary Updates: Little gnomes have moved in, but there are fewer of them this time around. The canary is getting chapped (Chapped knees!! How funny!), but I’ve developed a morning sickness like BLECH response to the smell of my lovely body cream, so I’ll have to go find another less lovely smelling one. I get suddenly VERY TIRED, but then, boom, a short rest, and I’m better.
We bought a 2007 Grand Caravan!