It was Valentine's week, after all. Even with the most positive of attitudes, the thought had crept in to my mind that this could be my last year to celebrate Valentine's Day with my husband, Charlie. (I don't dwell on thoughts like these, but they do pass through my mind from time to time. My doctors have told me that the chemotherapy and radiation we are doing now is an all or nothing deal, so if it doesn't work there are no other options for me.) That being said, I wanted to make our Valentine's the most memorable experience yet.
I planned ahead and figured Saturday night would be a great night to celebrate since I'd have had a day off from radiation and enough chance to recover from Wednesday's chemo. So I made the most romantic dinner I could think of: reservations at Morton's. We'd actually never been to Morton's, but it's a "fancy" restaurant with a great reputation, and any night out would be better than my usual cup of broth that seems to be my dinner of choice for now.
Charlie spent the afternoon with his son (our "son"), and when he came home he found me all dressed up in a white gown I'd worn to my 10th high-school reunion. (Cancer: the world's quickest diet!) Even though I haven't lost all my hair, I decided to wear a really cute wig just because it's a heck of a lot easier than washing my hair these days. I made time to put on a full face of glamor makeup and off we went to celebrate! Feeling giddy, this was the first couple's time we'd made for ourselves since the diagnosis. I was so grateful for a boost in energy, I just knew God was going to make it a night to remember. And He did.
Morton's was kind enough to honor my request for a booth, and we were situated in a great people-watching spot. Charlie looked so handsome as we dabbled through our soup and salad. We made sure to order the souffles before the entrees came so we wouldn't miss out on their famous dessert. Suddenly, half way through or meal I started feeling very dizzy. We decided we'd better leave. That's when I lost consciousness and left Charlie to call for 911 while he watched his unresponsive wife start convulsing at the table. The grand finale was when I vomited up my lobster bisque all over what had been my beautiful white gown and Morton's lovely white table cloth. The whole episode only lasted about a minute, and I returned to feeling well before the ambulance had arrived. Our servers were quick to package up the remaining (non-digested) food and pull our little Prius up to the front door. They even offered me a table cloth to cover myself. We got home, polished off the souffles, and Charlie spent the remainder of our romantic evening hovered over the bathtub scrubbing dinner out of my dress. Not exactly the candles and passion I had envisioned, but quite a memorable evening indeed. Thanks for listening, Universe. I'll be a bit more direct next time. (Just so you know, my MRI later in the week came back clear. The "event" was most likely due to an electrolyte imbalance.)
Not all was lost. Valentine's Day itself wasn't until Thursday. We had another chance! Typically, Thursdays and Fridays are my most challenging days because Wednesday's chemo has a way of making me feel like there's a big elephant in the room for about 72 hours. Only my elephant isn't just in the room, he's actually standing on top of me, doing a little dance, roaring loudly and waving his trunk. But it was Valentine's Day, and I had to make it up to Charlie after giving him the scariest night of his life just days before. So, prior to radiation, we decided to have a nice little lunch. Normally, I eat after radiation, since the beams have to pass through my intestines to reach my cervix and those radiation beams don't discriminate. But what's one little meal?...On Valentine's Day?
For those of you who know me, it won't come as too much of a surprise to read that I got all dressed up for the occasion. I put on some cute pants with hearts tie dyed into them, some furry pink leg warmers, a top that declares "Luckiest Woman Alive," and a crazy pink wig. I looked perfect! (Well, maybe if I were 12 instead of 42, but still....) So, a nice little lunch followed by some radiation, and off we left for our 30-minute drive home. Then, BAM! The Universe I so love decided to make absolutely certain we would remember the week. Diarrhea. Diarrhea like I've never had before. Filling my cute little heart pants with more junk in the trunk than they were meant to handle. We're racing down the freeway while I'm hurrying to remove my furry pink leg warmers and red boots before my liquified lunch could reach them. For 20 minutes I balanced my legs on the dashboard and my arms on the seat, using all my might to not let my booty touch anything. When we finally made it home my pants went right into the trash.
And that's why having cervical cancer means never having to wear the same outfit more than once!
Pre-Puke Pics:
And, here is the pre-poop pic:
Laurie
P.S. - If you'd like to leave a comment, it'll be much easier if you go here instead of trying to do it through Blogger. If the link doesn't work, just go to:
https://www.mylifeline.org/lauriethrives/default.cfm?page=myupdates.cfm
Simply scroll to the bottom of the update you want to comment on and hit "comment." I love hearing from you. You're love keeps me alive!
