JUST FYI: the birthday cake on Monday’s post was one that Claire made for someone else. IT WAS Not the strawberry one from the cancer center folks.
X-rays, biopsies, doctor appointments, radiation, chemo, immunotherapy, nurses, weigh-ins, and cancer.
These are the things that rob your memory. Thank goodness there are iPhones and sons.
I mentioned a few blog posts back that my son and his family brought me a tub of goodies. After Monday’s post, Kelsey asked, “Did we forget your mom’s birthday?”
“I don’t remember,” Adam said. But looking back at his iPhone photos, he found the two photos. The two appearing in today’s post. Me with my grandkids. Me and my basket of goodies.
The tub was full of Triskets, licorice, popcorn, all the stuff I couldn’t swallow after the third week of radiation. Didn’t matter, I tried my best to get through it before that third week was over. Adam and his family also brought pizza, and my darling farmer-market helper, Lucy, baked the cake. She is a chip off the grandma block. And, she’s only 12.
Lastly, the gift bag contained a water bottle. I have never had a water bottle before although they are pretty popular these days. First, there’s Yeti, then Hydro Flask and now Stanley. The thought of dragging around a water bottle seemed a little foreign to me. Now, of course, I hardly go anywhere without it.
Strangely enough, the water bottle would be my best friend as the radiation slowly burned my esophagus. I would spend nearly every day after week three searching for food that I could tolerate.
There were days I thought of how my mother sent my dad on shopping trips to buy anything new and different to make her feel better. For some things, there are no answers or drugs.
Now, it was my turn to look for something that would feel good going down. There was nothing. The nurse, especially nurse Nicole, pushed the protein drinks. It took me so long to sip one of those boxes, and it tasted terrible.
Nurse Nicole’s suggestion was to freeze it first. That did seem to help. Hot liquids, cold liquids, anything, and everything I tried to consume was painful.
One day it was turkey cold cuts, one day tuna fish, one day bananas and peanut butter, and the food trials go on. It was difficult to swallow. Some of the pills I was swallowing caused me to shudder down to my toes. Yikes.
That made the water bottle my best friend. I took it everywhere in the house I landed. It kept things cold so I could sip all day — and sip I did. Cool was okay, cold water was not, and hot water was definitely out of the question. So I couldn’t enjoy morning coffee, and even now, I can’t drink more than one cup of coffee in the morning. It just doesn’t make me feel good anymore.
So, I did have a birthday party after all, albeit a day late. But as my dad said, “It’s just another day.” And, yes, it matters not what day we ate more cake, I’m so grateful for my children and grandchildren. Our newest and youngest, Finley Hill, arrived two days later on April 2.
Despite everything, I was grateful for another birth”day” and am praying I see another one in 2024.
INDYchildrendotme 
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