Friday, February 7, 2020
The snow gods are punishing me. I wrote in one of my October entries that I live where I do because we do not need to shovel much most years. This is not most years. My seven-year-old, Mika, had four snow days from school before Christmas. This week Mika had a snow day and today is her second two-hour delay. I was fortunate today because my significant other, Donald, already had the day off. Donald works construction and January through April are frequently slow times for contracts. To keep from laying off workers, it is not uncommon for some of the jobs to drop down to four days a week.
My son is still working five days a week, but Donald is very happy to only work four. Donald’s job is very physical, and he is no longer a young man. Donald still delivers 100 percent when he works, but I know he is probably counting the days until he retires July 2021 (it is 540 if he waits until July 31st). If I do not live until he plans to retire, Donald will retire at that point to take care of Mika full time. Donald is willing to take off any time he is offered until he retires.
I was thrilled Donald would be home to take Mika for her delayed start. I told Donald to text our friend that watched Mika for the other delay this week and tell her he would take her daughter too. I easily rolled down the hill on the powdery snow to take the bus to my chemotherapy treatment. I waited and waited, and then I pulled out my “not smart” phone, turned it on, and called the bus service number. I heard a message saying the bus was not starting service until 10:00 a.m. My appointment was scheduled at 9:30 a.m. I called Donald from the bus stop and told him to get Mika ready for school now so he could take me to chemotherapy, come back to take the girls to school, and then pick me back up from chemotherapy.
I confess, I never even checked to see if there was a bus delay. The weather was way worse Wednesday and there was not a bus service delay. Two of our local school districts did not even have a delay for today. I rolled back up the snow-covered hill to be loaded in the truck with my manual wheelchair. We were only five minutes late for my appointment.
The hospital was running very slow. I was in their chair, ready for treatment a couple of minutes before 10:00 a.m. I called Donald and told him to pick me up at 11:30 because I figured I would be finished at 11:15 and probably back in my manual wheelchair by 11:30. Nope. The nurse did not start the chemotherapy infusion until six minutes after 11:00 a.m. During the span of one hour, I was only given my 15-minute steroid dose.
The nurse did a 15-minute saline flush after the chemotherapy treatment, which has never been done before, so I was not ready to leave until a few minutes after noon. Apparently, the chemotherapy gods were in cahoots with the snow gods, working to keep me humble. You would think they would have learned by now. Humility is not in my nature.
I have been paralyzed, infected by the flesh eating disease, two below the knee amputations, and diagnosed with terminal cancer. I have scoliosis in my back, no fine motor skills, and holes on my butt. I am a pathetic sight. Somehow all these setbacks have only taught me patience, not humility.
My piece of advice to you is to refuse to be humble. I am an amazing person, and I plan to keep shouting those words to the world. I do not need to be a professional athlete, movie star, artist, or even a great mother to be amazing. I can simply be the me I have created during the past 50+ years. I did a really good job making me amazing and choose to celebrate it.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.
The snow gods are punishing me. I wrote in one of my October entries that I live where I do because we do not need to shovel much most years. This is not most years. My seven-year-old, Mika, had four snow days from school before Christmas. This week Mika had a snow day and today is her second two-hour delay. I was fortunate today because my significant other, Donald, already had the day off. Donald works construction and January through April are frequently slow times for contracts. To keep from laying off workers, it is not uncommon for some of the jobs to drop down to four days a week.
My son is still working five days a week, but Donald is very happy to only work four. Donald’s job is very physical, and he is no longer a young man. Donald still delivers 100 percent when he works, but I know he is probably counting the days until he retires July 2021 (it is 540 if he waits until July 31st). If I do not live until he plans to retire, Donald will retire at that point to take care of Mika full time. Donald is willing to take off any time he is offered until he retires.
I was thrilled Donald would be home to take Mika for her delayed start. I told Donald to text our friend that watched Mika for the other delay this week and tell her he would take her daughter too. I easily rolled down the hill on the powdery snow to take the bus to my chemotherapy treatment. I waited and waited, and then I pulled out my “not smart” phone, turned it on, and called the bus service number. I heard a message saying the bus was not starting service until 10:00 a.m. My appointment was scheduled at 9:30 a.m. I called Donald from the bus stop and told him to get Mika ready for school now so he could take me to chemotherapy, come back to take the girls to school, and then pick me back up from chemotherapy.
I confess, I never even checked to see if there was a bus delay. The weather was way worse Wednesday and there was not a bus service delay. Two of our local school districts did not even have a delay for today. I rolled back up the snow-covered hill to be loaded in the truck with my manual wheelchair. We were only five minutes late for my appointment.
The hospital was running very slow. I was in their chair, ready for treatment a couple of minutes before 10:00 a.m. I called Donald and told him to pick me up at 11:30 because I figured I would be finished at 11:15 and probably back in my manual wheelchair by 11:30. Nope. The nurse did not start the chemotherapy infusion until six minutes after 11:00 a.m. During the span of one hour, I was only given my 15-minute steroid dose.
The nurse did a 15-minute saline flush after the chemotherapy treatment, which has never been done before, so I was not ready to leave until a few minutes after noon. Apparently, the chemotherapy gods were in cahoots with the snow gods, working to keep me humble. You would think they would have learned by now. Humility is not in my nature.
I have been paralyzed, infected by the flesh eating disease, two below the knee amputations, and diagnosed with terminal cancer. I have scoliosis in my back, no fine motor skills, and holes on my butt. I am a pathetic sight. Somehow all these setbacks have only taught me patience, not humility.
My piece of advice to you is to refuse to be humble. I am an amazing person, and I plan to keep shouting those words to the world. I do not need to be a professional athlete, movie star, artist, or even a great mother to be amazing. I can simply be the me I have created during the past 50+ years. I did a really good job making me amazing and choose to celebrate it.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.