Pomp, and Circumstances

After I wasted a good deal of time crying and dreading and obsessing about it last night, I had my second adriamycin treatment this afternoon, after a morning of blood work, nurse's assessment, doctor's visit, and pre-meds. The actual injection of chemo is probably the shortest part of the whole ordeal, but all of the other things are necessary, too. My blood counts are still good -- Yay! I have to go to Knoxville again tomorrow for my Neulasta shot. The Neulasta shot, while necessary, packs some very unpleasant side effects. Since it causes my body to build white blood cells, sort of like my body is fighting an infection, it causes the same kinds of symptoms that come with flu -- body aches, fever, chills, general feeling of malaise. This means that Sunday should be a fun day for me! Hopefully, that will be the end of it, and I will be ready for our graduation celebration, a cookout here on Monday afternoon with around 3 dozen guests if everyone shows. We will have Don's famous burgers with all of the trimmings, cake and ice cream, and homemade lemonade made just the way I like it (MUCH too sweet, lol!).

And, YES, I also made it to the graduation ceremonies this evening. We got home from chemo at 5:15, took a quick round of pictures before Autumn and Lacey left at 5:30, then I changed into my dress and got ready, finally leaving for the Expo Center at 6:30. It was crowded, and there was no handicapped parking remaining, so Don and Zach dropped off the rest of us and went to park. Instead of a ramp, they have a very ssssllllloooooowwww lift. Thankfully, I had requested reserved seating due to my health/wheelchair, and they so very kindly accommodated us by roping off a section on the concourse level with a space for my wheelchair and a dozen more seats. They even assigned someone to "guard" the row for us until we arrived so that no one else would take it.

I sat there victoriously, thinking about the fact that the girls were 10 years old when I was diagnosed with cancer. Who knew if I would live to see this day? Well, guess what! Cancer, are you listening? I'm STILL HERE! You didn't keep me away from this celebration. Take that, cancer, you evil cartoon villain! (Curses, foiled again ...) Yes, I had a whole day of chemo-related events, but I had graduation, too. And I enjoyed every precious moment of seeing my beautiful daughters walk across the stage into young adulthood.

And so ends another ride on the long, harrowing roller coaster ride that is parenthood. You climb on tentatively, having heard that it's a wonderful trip but still a little nervous of what you might encounter. Soon the ride is underway and you find yourself strapped in as your life careens up and down at breakneck speed and through stomach-churning loops, leaving you dizzy and frightened at times and yet deliriously happy, too. There are times when it moves so fast that the car tips in a curve and you think the whole thing might fly right off into the abyss, but it miraculously adheres to the track. And when you finally arrive with a jolt at the station, lurching dizzily onto the platform, you find yourself wishing that you do it all over again.

Sadly, like all of life, you cannot. Andrew, Josiah, Autumn, and Lacey will not be children again. And all of the things that I cherished about their childhood are only memories now -- Andrew with his race cars, keeping holes in the knees of his pants and even his pajamas because he spend so much time on the floor rolling his toy cars; sweet, stubborn Josiah, who liked to have things his way and insisted that his school projects and all of his extra-curricular pursuits be done to perfection; Autumn, who was ridiculed once by her fifth grade class when they were told to plan a party and she innocently suggested flowers (instead of rock stars, strobe lights, etc.); tender-hearted Lacey who came to live with us just after her 10th birthday, rough around the edges because no one had taken time to help her with manners or ladylikeness. Sho longed for a forever family but sorrowed still for her real mother, who had promised to return for her one day.

Those days, like all days, are never coming back. Though we can visit them in dreams and flights of fancy, they are gone forever. And so we move on into the future, which is better than the past anyway because it's still attainable, ripe for the picking, ready for another roller coaster ride ... or a cookout ... or maybe, for the moment, just a long night's sleep -- where, if I'm lucky, I'll be met with a delicious dream of children playing and laughing and dancing all around a happy, healthy, beautiful me in the sweet innocence of yesterday.

:-) Sharon