The "Scrambler"

No....this blog is not about all the eggs we have colored, decorated and 'et' in the last two days. It is about what we have been doing emotionally and physically the last two days. It reminds me of when I was a little kid and I was always compelled to ride the "Scrambler". You know the one... your seat turns one way while an arm of the ride turns the other way. I loved to ride it as a child mainly because it would make my parents sick but not me (always a big plus as a child...you'll take whatever superiority you can get when you are young) and because we could all smash into one seat together to ride. I liked being that close to my family even though at that age I pretty much couldn't stand them....sibling rivalry and all that stuff. Because I was little, I always got the outside seat so I was able to fly into everyone else and make them miserable while the wind whistled through my hair and I felt like I had control of everything. It was great!!! When I became a parent, for some crazy reason, many of my children also loved to ride the scrambler....me not so much. I think I realized that I didn't have control over anything, all of the turns and movement made me sick to my stomach and I was the one getting smashed up against the side of the ride. All in all, something I tried to avoid at all cost. So today, I was thinking that dealing with cancer is a lot like being that old person riding the scrambler...over and over and over. You are compelled to ride it...and at first, it isn't so bad. Sure, you are a little dizzy and your stomach is turning a bit, but it isn't anything you can't handle...then you realize..."Wait a minute! Isn't someone going to stop this fool thing? I would like to get off ...please? "...but it just picks up speed. You're stuck...you are riding and the only thing left for you to do is rearrange your position, try to get comfortable, put your head down, breathe slow and easy to avoid throwing up, push an arm out to ward off the worst of the smashing and blows that are coming your way, and focus, focus, focus on the cool wind blowing over you....after all...that is what the ride is all about. Being together and trying to enjoy the ride. I feel like I have my arms around Shea while she takes blow after blow and of course, it makes her crash into me...and we just can't stop the ride. I'm desperately trying to get the attention of the carnival workers....but they are too dedicated to fulfilling their jobs to really catch our eyes...so we just stay on the ride and hope to heck we don't throw up. So there you have it... cancer is like being scrambled on the scrambler. Now that you are all concerned about my mental state of mind (which should not be a new thing for those of you who know me well), I will tell you about the last few days. We were so excited that Shea's blood work had gone well, until we heard from the Huntsman. They were concerned about Shea and her low blood pressure, so they ordered up an IV pole and a bag of Saline to arrive on our doorstep. Our home health care nurse called and said that she could come on Easter or Monday morning to give Shea the IV. We told her to enjoy Easter and we would see her on Monday. We had a good Easter, but Shea was a little worried about needing an IV. Shea had planned to have a friend come over and give her and me eyelash extensions (an early Mom's day/birthday gift from Shea)...so the plan was to do eyelashes and then an IV, then have a fun chill-out day. Shea had half of her eyelashes done and then it was time for the infusions. Two attempts to access the port and Shea was in pain and discouraged. While the home health care nurse was calling to figure out what we needed to do, Huntsman called us and said that they had looked over Shea's blood test from Friday and they wanted us in Salt Lake by 3. So much for trying to do the infusion today. Kelt, Shea and I packed up and headed down to Salt Lake. They decided to access her port...do the infusion...and take her blood so that they could compare it with Friday's offering. Thank goodness they did. Shea's potassium level was in the critical range and so they added that to the IV cocktail. Therefore, we spent 'Happy Hour' in the infusion room at the Huntsman. We were finally sent home and arrived here at 10 p.m. Shea and I will be on the road by 7 a.m. in the morning for a command return performance at the Huntsman. I think it is because they are concerned about Shea's weight. She has lost 8 pounds this past week. It broke my heart to see her face fall when the nurse told her how much she weighed. She was so upset! She really needed a good cry about the whole thing, so thankfully she was able to do that once she got home. It's nice to know she has friends out there who she can cry to...and they listen. It really sucks dirty ditch water when you are the Mom and you have a child with cancer (although I'm pretty certain it is worse to be the child with cancer and you have to deal with dumb Mom). I feel so helpless...and I HATE that! For heaven's sake...my spit alone is industrial strength and has cleaned up several messes over the years...and now I can't do jack spit to help Shea out. Sometimes it makes me want to throw a really good tantrum or scream....or just do something/anything....but I can't. So....we will continue to ride the Scrambler....we will smile at all of the carnival workers and the other helpless riders....and we will continue to dodge the scary clowns. First thing in the morning.