Tootsies and Trips

This morning began with foot in mouth. I’m not speaking figuratively; said something stupid, embarrassed myself or someone else … I’m talking 5 tiny pink painted toenails inserted ever-so-gently inside Mommy’s drooling, agape craw. No, there was no adorable little princess sock protecting me, no pink tights smelling of fabric softener. Just skin on skin contact featuring upside-down duckling-headed five-year-old and finally sleeping mama. Blech! Ptu-Ptu!!! That’s it. We’ve gotta get this girl back into her own bed! I must say, it was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time, much needed after the events of this week and I finally feel motivated to do something today. Perhaps it will be getting Lulu’s little-girl bed out of the attic again, since she can’t maneuver her big-girl bed with her feeding tube. Or maybe I’ll have Jimmy do that while I go to the gym?.

Yes, hubby’s back after another trip. He was only gone 3 days this time, but of course, everything seems to happen when he’s away. The night before last, I dragged myself up the stairs at 11:30 after taking a benadryl, hoping for some deep Z’s. I crawled into bed, next to, HEY, there are TWO kids in my bed! Oh well, there’s room without Jimmy in the king-size (yes, I know it’s an issue and we need to work on this. Don’t call Dr. Phil). I pulled the warm covers up. Really warm covers. Too warm. Shit, Lulu’s got a fever. Shit shit shit! It’s over 101 which means I have to take her in to E.R. Panic. Can’t leave Max here alone, or can I? He’s 9. He’ll sleep. What if he doesn’t? What if he wakes up and starts freaking out. Don’t want to take him to E.R. at midnight and mess up his whole school day tomorrow, let alone have him go through the trauma of being there with screaming Lulu. Who can I call this late? No answer from Jimmy. Call BF in Minneapolis. Ok, I’m not thinking clearly, but she has 2 kids who are older than mine and will know what to do. Sure enough, she says leave him a note, he’s ok to stay, but might not remember talking to me and call a neighbor. I didn’t want to do that to my neighbor, but that was the permission I needed to make the call. Ring. She was so gracious, came right over and slept on the couch.

Lulu and I got into the car and she asked if she’d have to get poked. Of course she would, and without numbing cream, her port would have to be painfully accessed. “I’m not sure baby. I’ll ask when we get there”. She’s still freaking. As I arrive carrying her through the doors on the way to her room, I hear “T, is that you? You look beautiful!”. This is the weirdest thing I can ever imagine hearing right now. Me, in the hospital, stressed-out bed-headed in sweats juxtaposed with this statement. I turn to see a long lost dear friend from high school whom I’ve been trying to find for years. “Laura?” Wow, how nuts is that!?! It turns out she had taken care of Lulu the last time Jimmy brought her to E.R. and that they had clicked instantly. He had spoken to me of the great nurse they’d had that night as well. I long to speak with her and catch up, but between the docs asking questions (yes, she has A.L.L. em, yes she’s on some medications…), Lulu’s screaming and me fighting the effects of the benadryl, all is lost. She leaves me her info and we promise to get together soon. Lulu gets her blood drawn, is poked and prodded, given antibiotics and after 4 hours we are released. She likely has a cold.

Aaah, just another day in Cancerland.

A.L.L. Of Us

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