Second Honeymoon, (with Chemo...)
The past few weeks have been a very special time. Being able to be alone with Gerry - well, except for the doctors & nurses doing intimate things with G that I won't even go into... - has been a tremendous experience. We've had such a good time, which isn't how Cancer is supposed to be, right?
We've been sight seeing - taking odd drives to figure out exactly WHAT those smokestacks in the distance are - and I've been going on daily walks with Atticus around the church at St. Mary's Hospital. It's lovely.
We've enjoyed each other's company, and after 14 years of marriage we both feel pretty lucky that it's been such a great few weeks. We laugh all the time, at the stupidest things, and have a good time with just about everything we do. As Zero Day approaches we've been getting a bit more tense, but nothing we can't handle.
And now, tomorrow - er, today - is Zero Day. This is the day of the transplant, which is supposed to be anticlimactic after all of the odd things that have transpired to this point. Every day after this is numbered - Zero Day Plus One, Zero Day Plus Two, etc.
At Day Plus One Hundred we're supposed to come back to Mayo for follow up. The nurse practitioner told us Thursday that when someone lives as close as we do - 81 miles from Mayo to our house in St. Paul - they tend to let them head home sooner than someone who lives halfway around the world.
She actually used the words, "Day Plus Fifteen" when making an educated guess on when Gerry might be able to go home.
Because the transplant is today - the last day of August - counting the days for the first month will be quite easy. Day Plus 1 is Sept 1, Day Plus 15 is Sept 15.
And that's the day I'm returning from [gleam] France.
ZERO DAY
I can't sleep. I feel like I'm preparing for the D-Day invasion. My sister in law made me an adorable peaked cap, decorated with the stars and scrambled eggs of a General, with "Organization" emblazoned across the front. I am the Organizational General.
Everything, though, seems to be coming together beautifully;
GERRY
Is doing really well. He's still basking in the 13,000,000 plus stem cell harvest (I'm going to have a T shirt made up for him touting this amazing feat) and he wanted to walk to the clinic for his second day of chemo - except we were running late. Darn.
Our [fabulous] nurses yesterday told us that every day that he's able to be active and move around means 5 less days of recovery down the road. YAY!
So as long as he feels like it, we'll walk.
Plus, it's been an amazingly beautiful few days here in Rochester - sunny and cool - perfect for walking a half a mile!
Gerry told me yesterday that the night before - the night when he couldn't get to sleep until 4:00 am - he seriously thought about death for the first time. We didn't talk about it in depth - but with all of our joking about "Hey, the service here is terrible! I don't have much time, you know!" this was the first time the hooded one entered the room for anything but a chuckle (or a game of Battleship...)
The 5:45 appointment with surgery for his central line went very smoothly. The line is in, I've changed the dressing once (very nicely - I wanted the video TWICE before I did it) and it seems to be healing beautifully. The chemo nurse yesterday said it didn't look like he'd just had the line put in the day before.
Our amazing Gerry - everything his body's been asked to do has been done magnificently. YAY!
After his chemo yesterday, which was a bit delayed, we strolled home and he felt really good. Before the chemo I forgot to pick up his drugs downstairs, then when we arrived at the chemo station we were generally gestured toward a room without a lot of guidance.
It was our luck of the draw that the next two folks we ran into were a tech from a different floor who couldn't really help us, and a nurses aid who told us in NO uncertain terms that NO, we DIDN'T have to wash our hands before we entered Gerry's room (all the signs said, WASH YOUR HANDS, so we did.)
The upshot was that when we finally arrived in the chemo room we felt tense, confused, and as if we'd been scolded. That was when I realized I had forgotten to pick up the drugs, so I rushed down to the pharmacy only to realize I didn't have my wallet.
So back up to the room, then back down to the pharmacy, paid for the drugs (I was so stressed I wasn't nice to the pharmacist, I have to go apologize today...) and then back up to Gerry's room to have the nurse go over the drugs and chat with us long enough to calm us down.
After that it was a breeze. The chemo was put in through Gerry's central line, he felt great, the nurses were so wonderful (as usual here at Mayo) and we're getting so used to feeling lucky we don't know what we'll do when we have to go back to feeling like 'normal people.'
It's a crappy way to feel special, but better to embrace the positive aspect of this whole adventure, ne c'est pas? Hey, that's FRENCH!
KNITTING
So little to mention, I'm ashamed to say. I've missed several submission deadlines (oh, well!) I've done NO work on any book proposals (oh, well!) and I've barely been able to get any knitting done at ALL (damn!)
I'm planning on getting a lot done on the flights from MN to London, then from London to [gleam] France, but I need to double and triple check the needle allowances on international flights.
Since I'm working on a mitered project I can use dpn needles, so I may just bring them and pack EVERYTHING else in my luggage just to be safe. They're slower than my long metal needles, but I'd hate to LOSE my long, metal needles!
ME
Tired, but good. Lots of work yet to be done, much more behind me. When I stop and think about the work it overwhelms me, so instead I just make sure the next few days are planned out and put one foot in front of the other.
Today my sister in law and I drove up to St. Paul to clean the house and pick up the kids. The house is FAR from pristine, but it's light years better than it was! Our 10+ year old vacuum cleaner, which was a cheapo stopgap when we bought it and has never been great, was just too lightweight for the massive task.
So I stopped at Sears on the way home and finally got myself a halfway decent true HEPA vacuum.
I figure this is the time to try to get the house as clean as possible - for me, for Gerry, and for the kids and the kind folks who will be staying with them over the next two weeks! His immune system will require a better vacuum - so why put it off?
We arrived with our new vacuum and face masks and cleaned like there was no tomorrow. Gayle worked so hard - so did I - and at the end of 3 hours 90% of the dust was gone, things were in a better working order, and we felt quite pleased with ourselves. Saturday Gayle, the kids and I will drive up and I'll get them settled in before I leave Sunday afternoon for - oh, you know...
Gerry mentioned the other day I haven't been talking much about France - haven't really mentioned it at all except in organizational terms - so I bought a guidebook for Languedoc and I'm trying to drum up the enthusiasm that this trip deserves!
My heart is wrenched, though, with the thought that when Gerry's at his absolute worst, I'll be resting poolside in Southern France.
My heart is wrenched, but my soul is looking forward to this.
People have been VERY kind about writing to say to be sure to take care of myself , the caretaker, and that's lovely of them. It's nice that caretakers get consideration, it means a lot.
I knew this would be a lot of work, but I hadn't realized how MUCH work.
Every single minute is devoted to either lifting, carrrying, arranging, cleaning, phoning, picking up, dropping off - it is very much like having a baby or toddler (a very large toddler) who has definite opinions about certain things, and also a certain amount of pride.
Gerry's been amazing - just wonderful - and I am very lucky. I can imagine how easily this could disintigrate into something very unpleasant if either caregiver or care-ee lacked respect for what the other was going through.
Gerry appreciates all that I'm doing, and that means so much. On my end, I never lose sight of how hard and odd this whole thing is for Gerry - who felt pretty darned good just 6 months ago.
But even as great as Gerry's been, because he IS an adult human, I can't just steamroller him and push him along. He has pride and an ego (as we all do) and he needs to be able to make as many decisions for himself as he can. This would be so easy if it were a dictatorship - as long as I were the dictator.
This means sometimes in addition to all the other stuff I find myself cajoling, wheedling, and pulling him toward a decision or choice. Not that he's being recalcitrant, just HUMAN. And I know - in my heart of hearts - that I'd be 1000% times more difficult.
Actually, I have been 1000% more difficult, so Gerry has a long way to go before I have anything to complain about!
DAWN
So here I sit at 4:01. The wake up call is scheduled for 4:45, so it's hardly worth going back to bed. I couldn't sleep - worry, tension, weight of planning - there's only so much room in the bed (and Atticus is taking up a great deal of it.)
Hannah grew inches, I swear! She's so beautiful - her hair was flat ironed (and lice-free!) and she looked so well loved! Max's hair is not as short as I feared and he looks oddly vulnerable. I thought he'd look tough, but you can't turn Opie Taylor into a skinhead, no matter HOW short you cut his hair!
We went down to Canadian Honkers for dinner last night, we all ate well and laughed. The kids went off to swim with Gerry, masked, looking on. Gayle and Elaine walked Atticus and I ran to the grocery store to stock up on necessities and some fun stuff for Gerry to entice him to eat when I'm gone.
The kids are sleeping down in Grandma / Aunt Gayle's room because we want to keep this room as person-free as possible. Also, there's no need for them to get up at 4:45 - and we can't really leave them alone in the hotel room - so it's easier for everyone if they sleep in the pull out bed.
Just another night without my kids. I miss them so much. They're one floor away and I just want to go wake them up and hug them. But I won't. I'll just sit up for another 40 minutes watching A History Of Britain - the best sedative I have.
Thanks to everyone who's written with good wishes for today - our wake up call just came through, so I guess it's time to wake up the man of the hour!
We've been sight seeing - taking odd drives to figure out exactly WHAT those smokestacks in the distance are - and I've been going on daily walks with Atticus around the church at St. Mary's Hospital. It's lovely.We've enjoyed each other's company, and after 14 years of marriage we both feel pretty lucky that it's been such a great few weeks. We laugh all the time, at the stupidest things, and have a good time with just about everything we do. As Zero Day approaches we've been getting a bit more tense, but nothing we can't handle.
And now, tomorrow - er, today - is Zero Day. This is the day of the transplant, which is supposed to be anticlimactic after all of the odd things that have transpired to this point. Every day after this is numbered - Zero Day Plus One, Zero Day Plus Two, etc.At Day Plus One Hundred we're supposed to come back to Mayo for follow up. The nurse practitioner told us Thursday that when someone lives as close as we do - 81 miles from Mayo to our house in St. Paul - they tend to let them head home sooner than someone who lives halfway around the world.
She actually used the words, "Day Plus Fifteen" when making an educated guess on when Gerry might be able to go home.Because the transplant is today - the last day of August - counting the days for the first month will be quite easy. Day Plus 1 is Sept 1, Day Plus 15 is Sept 15.
And that's the day I'm returning from [gleam] France.
ZERO DAY
I can't sleep. I feel like I'm preparing for the D-Day invasion. My sister in law made me an adorable peaked cap, decorated with the stars and scrambled eggs of a General, with "Organization" emblazoned across the front. I am the Organizational General.
Everything, though, seems to be coming together beautifully;
Gerry had his second day of chemo yesterday and so far so good (he's not supposed to feel the effects for 5 days or so - when I'll be in [gleam] France.)- Gerry's mom and sister arrived Wednesday without a hitch
- The kids arrived and they're beautiful, healthy, happy & lice free!
- We have all of his meds sorted out for his mom in a compartmentalized container
- We're getting the keeping the room practically sterile thing down
- I spoke to the St. Paul City Electrical Inspector and she was a HUMAN BEING (yay!)
- The bathroom floor is laid, it's lovely
- The kitchen floor should be down on Friday
GERRY
Is doing really well. He's still basking in the 13,000,000 plus stem cell harvest (I'm going to have a T shirt made up for him touting this amazing feat) and he wanted to walk to the clinic for his second day of chemo - except we were running late. Darn.
Our [fabulous] nurses yesterday told us that every day that he's able to be active and move around means 5 less days of recovery down the road. YAY!So as long as he feels like it, we'll walk.
Plus, it's been an amazingly beautiful few days here in Rochester - sunny and cool - perfect for walking a half a mile! Gerry told me yesterday that the night before - the night when he couldn't get to sleep until 4:00 am - he seriously thought about death for the first time. We didn't talk about it in depth - but with all of our joking about "Hey, the service here is terrible! I don't have much time, you know!" this was the first time the hooded one entered the room for anything but a chuckle (or a game of Battleship...)
The 5:45 appointment with surgery for his central line went very smoothly. The line is in, I've changed the dressing once (very nicely - I wanted the video TWICE before I did it) and it seems to be healing beautifully. The chemo nurse yesterday said it didn't look like he'd just had the line put in the day before.
Our amazing Gerry - everything his body's been asked to do has been done magnificently. YAY!
After his chemo yesterday, which was a bit delayed, we strolled home and he felt really good. Before the chemo I forgot to pick up his drugs downstairs, then when we arrived at the chemo station we were generally gestured toward a room without a lot of guidance.
It was our luck of the draw that the next two folks we ran into were a tech from a different floor who couldn't really help us, and a nurses aid who told us in NO uncertain terms that NO, we DIDN'T have to wash our hands before we entered Gerry's room (all the signs said, WASH YOUR HANDS, so we did.)
The upshot was that when we finally arrived in the chemo room we felt tense, confused, and as if we'd been scolded. That was when I realized I had forgotten to pick up the drugs, so I rushed down to the pharmacy only to realize I didn't have my wallet.
So back up to the room, then back down to the pharmacy, paid for the drugs (I was so stressed I wasn't nice to the pharmacist, I have to go apologize today...) and then back up to Gerry's room to have the nurse go over the drugs and chat with us long enough to calm us down. After that it was a breeze. The chemo was put in through Gerry's central line, he felt great, the nurses were so wonderful (as usual here at Mayo) and we're getting so used to feeling lucky we don't know what we'll do when we have to go back to feeling like 'normal people.'
It's a crappy way to feel special, but better to embrace the positive aspect of this whole adventure, ne c'est pas? Hey, that's FRENCH!
KNITTING
So little to mention, I'm ashamed to say. I've missed several submission deadlines (oh, well!) I've done NO work on any book proposals (oh, well!) and I've barely been able to get any knitting done at ALL (damn!)I'm planning on getting a lot done on the flights from MN to London, then from London to [gleam] France, but I need to double and triple check the needle allowances on international flights.
Since I'm working on a mitered project I can use dpn needles, so I may just bring them and pack EVERYTHING else in my luggage just to be safe. They're slower than my long metal needles, but I'd hate to LOSE my long, metal needles!
ME
Tired, but good. Lots of work yet to be done, much more behind me. When I stop and think about the work it overwhelms me, so instead I just make sure the next few days are planned out and put one foot in front of the other.
Today my sister in law and I drove up to St. Paul to clean the house and pick up the kids. The house is FAR from pristine, but it's light years better than it was! Our 10+ year old vacuum cleaner, which was a cheapo stopgap when we bought it and has never been great, was just too lightweight for the massive task. So I stopped at Sears on the way home and finally got myself a halfway decent true HEPA vacuum.
I figure this is the time to try to get the house as clean as possible - for me, for Gerry, and for the kids and the kind folks who will be staying with them over the next two weeks! His immune system will require a better vacuum - so why put it off?
We arrived with our new vacuum and face masks and cleaned like there was no tomorrow. Gayle worked so hard - so did I - and at the end of 3 hours 90% of the dust was gone, things were in a better working order, and we felt quite pleased with ourselves. Saturday Gayle, the kids and I will drive up and I'll get them settled in before I leave Sunday afternoon for - oh, you know...
Gerry mentioned the other day I haven't been talking much about France - haven't really mentioned it at all except in organizational terms - so I bought a guidebook for Languedoc and I'm trying to drum up the enthusiasm that this trip deserves!
My heart is wrenched, though, with the thought that when Gerry's at his absolute worst, I'll be resting poolside in Southern France. My heart is wrenched, but my soul is looking forward to this.
People have been VERY kind about writing to say to be sure to take care of myself , the caretaker, and that's lovely of them. It's nice that caretakers get consideration, it means a lot.
I knew this would be a lot of work, but I hadn't realized how MUCH work.
Every single minute is devoted to either lifting, carrrying, arranging, cleaning, phoning, picking up, dropping off - it is very much like having a baby or toddler (a very large toddler) who has definite opinions about certain things, and also a certain amount of pride.
Gerry's been amazing - just wonderful - and I am very lucky. I can imagine how easily this could disintigrate into something very unpleasant if either caregiver or care-ee lacked respect for what the other was going through.
Gerry appreciates all that I'm doing, and that means so much. On my end, I never lose sight of how hard and odd this whole thing is for Gerry - who felt pretty darned good just 6 months ago.
But even as great as Gerry's been, because he IS an adult human, I can't just steamroller him and push him along. He has pride and an ego (as we all do) and he needs to be able to make as many decisions for himself as he can. This would be so easy if it were a dictatorship - as long as I were the dictator.
This means sometimes in addition to all the other stuff I find myself cajoling, wheedling, and pulling him toward a decision or choice. Not that he's being recalcitrant, just HUMAN. And I know - in my heart of hearts - that I'd be 1000% times more difficult.
Actually, I have been 1000% more difficult, so Gerry has a long way to go before I have anything to complain about!
DAWN
So here I sit at 4:01. The wake up call is scheduled for 4:45, so it's hardly worth going back to bed. I couldn't sleep - worry, tension, weight of planning - there's only so much room in the bed (and Atticus is taking up a great deal of it.)
Hannah grew inches, I swear! She's so beautiful - her hair was flat ironed (and lice-free!) and she looked so well loved! Max's hair is not as short as I feared and he looks oddly vulnerable. I thought he'd look tough, but you can't turn Opie Taylor into a skinhead, no matter HOW short you cut his hair!
We went down to Canadian Honkers for dinner last night, we all ate well and laughed. The kids went off to swim with Gerry, masked, looking on. Gayle and Elaine walked Atticus and I ran to the grocery store to stock up on necessities and some fun stuff for Gerry to entice him to eat when I'm gone.
The kids are sleeping down in Grandma / Aunt Gayle's room because we want to keep this room as person-free as possible. Also, there's no need for them to get up at 4:45 - and we can't really leave them alone in the hotel room - so it's easier for everyone if they sleep in the pull out bed.
Just another night without my kids. I miss them so much. They're one floor away and I just want to go wake them up and hug them. But I won't. I'll just sit up for another 40 minutes watching A History Of Britain - the best sedative I have.
Thanks to everyone who's written with good wishes for today - our wake up call just came through, so I guess it's time to wake up the man of the hour!
53 Comments:
You cannot care for someone else if you are exhausted, run down, depressed and soul-starved. Consider this trip part of Gerry's treatment -- you will come home refreshed, with stories to beguile him and a renewed energy to care for him.
My heart is with your family through this -- thank you for sharing your courage and strength.
As for the knitting -- yes, you can knit on the plane TO Europe but most airports will not allow you to bring knitting needles of any sort onto the plane once you are IN Europe (this includes the long flight home!) -- bring a bag to hold it all which can be quickly checked into luggage, you do not want to lose your work!
best of luck on zero day! Here's to many more plus days!
My best wishes to you all, I hope you love your trip and return rested. Just a quick note on needles, plastic and bamboo are generally fine on both International and European flights, I usually have a WIP for inflight knitting but always carry a plastic stitch holder just in case (never needed it yet) and a self addressed envelope in case I need to post my stuff home. Have a great trip.
good luck to you guys
sending good vibes on this very important day!
I just wanted to let you know that you are being thought of tenfold today.....Gerry has been amazing through all of this and his positive attitude only helps the process....
Have a safe trip and go knowing that this is your rejuvenation for the road ahead....
Au revoir! hugs and kisses!
suz from knit-a-bit
I will be thinking about all of you today. Good luck.
While you are in France I think the best thing you can do for Gerry is relax and enjoy. You do deserve it.
And if Gerry's mom is anything like a typical mom she is probably grateful to be needed and have a chance to help out her son (and you) during a difficult time.
So, what were the smokestacks? I was holding my breath all the way to the end.
Seriously, all fingers crossed and you're doing a brilliant job.
just wanted to let you know that i am thinking about both of you today. it is amazing to me the grace with which you have faced this; i applaud you and gerry.
Yup, bamboo and wooden needles are OK, dps or circular. They don't like metal because of the potential hollowness and threat of stuff hidden inside. I've carried both (dp's and circular) to and from europe and asia (and within asia, but not tried within europe) during the past year. I also have carried the good old long piece of string just in case. (threaded on a paper clip to avoid the whole sharp(?) tapestry needle problem) geeze, so I have enough parenthesis?! have some good relaxation.
Fingers and paws crossed for all of you!
Saying prayers for transplant day!
Too much stress can make you sick, too. Think of your trip as health maintenance. Bon Voyage -- amuse-toi bien!
Go Gerry Go! I'm so happy to hear he's weathering it well and that the two of you are getting through it so well. I'm sure his mom (and sister) are relieved to be able to help in any way that they can--so are your friends. Have a lovely trip to (gleam) France! I think my most commonly used phrase was "Bonjour--parlez vous anglais?" Ohh...have some yummy baugettes for me!
Judy in MN
(argh...blogger does NOT like to let me post)
I just wanted to say that I hope everything goes well today and to give you all a virtual hug! And do enjoy your time in FRANCE! :)
Whatever the best possible outcome of today is, at the end of the day, then that is my wish for you.
Good luck!
Annie and Gerry,
You and your family are with us all at this time - we wish you only the best. Recover well, enjoy France, and take care of yourselves as you're doing so well.
PS - Annie, I'd love to know about the glimpse of knitting you shared today -it's lovely and calls my name :)
{{{HUGS}}}
with love...
I've been reading for a long time and haven't commented until now. I hope today goes really really well. Here's hoping you'll see Zero plus 10,000 days together and happy and Healthy. You're doing an amazing job caring for Gerry and juggling everything else you have to do too. I'm hoping for the best for you both.
-Lizzy B
Keeping your entire family in my thoughts today-go stem cells!
Well, amazing Annie - you sure are a force! And you manage to write about it too - incredible. All my thoughts and positive energies are coming your way - and Gerry's. Go stem cells from me too!
Best of luck for you all today, and safe journey for everyone. I'll be thinking of you all and sending strong vibes your way!
(((((hugs)))))
sending good karma your way today.
Go stem cells! I'm thinking of you all especially today.
Enjoy your time in France. I know everything will be fine.
My hart goes out for you and wishing and hoping that this day will be the turning point off gerry's "illness" and may this be the turning point to many, very many days together in good health!!
Hope you'll have a save trip to france and just take some "you" time. Gerry will be fine and you also when you do take care.
Hugs from holland to you all and still there to read and enjoy your writing and hoping with you that all will come out right.
xxx
Go get 'em today!
Also, I won't be around Monday, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!
Take care of yourself and fully enjoy your time in France.
Gerry's in my thoughts today.
Annie, thank you for including us, your readers, on this cancer journey. You're teaching me how to handle tragedy with grace, dignity and humor. Thank you.
I'll be in Minneapolis this weekend so hopefully my good thoughts and prayers will get to you faster :)
Your love for my home state and the grace and bravery you show have made me love you even more.
Oh, and I had a joke for Gerry:
What did one sushi say to the other sushi?
Wa-sa-bi?
Okay, hopeful I got the inflection. Pretend the sushi are gangbangers.
Many blessings, prayers and hugs for you both!
Mwah!
thinking of you, Gerry, and the kids. Sending you my very best wishes.
My heart and well wishes are with you both. Breathe deeply and squeeze your handsome hubbies hand for us all.
My thoughts have been & are with you, Gerry & the children. May the rest of Gerry's course of treatment go as well as it has so far. It will be difficult for you to be so far away during this critical time but he will be surrounded by the 2 women who love him as much as you do. Take the time to rest, relax & recharge your batteries.
Is your BD Monday? Mine is Wednesday, my brother's is Thursday & my middle grandchild's is Friday (he was due on my BD)! Happy Birthday! Virgos Rock!!
My thoughts and prayers are with you guys today...take care (of yourself as well), and update us as you can!
--heather in ohio
Here's another first-time writer adding her wishes for both you and Gerry today and for Zero plus one hundred years. There are many of us who care but haven't written, and we're all pulling for you.
Adding my best wishes to the megatons of them above. Hugs to all of you.
Love and prayers and virtual hugs to you all! And have a great rejuvenating trip. Think of the caregiving as a tag team event - you are just stepping out of the ring for a bit to catch your breath, you will be back in the action soon.
As I sit here at my mother's bedside, waiting to see if she is recovering from a few days of weakness/infection and able to receive one more big chemo procedure, or if it's time to think about hospice, my words of advice are: keep your sense of humor, and try to take care of yourself - it will help your loved ones best, in the end.
Day plus 365, this will all be a distant memory. Thank you for sharing this difficult time with us. Blessings to you all and prayers for a full recovery for Gerry. You are both inspirational.
Good luck to Gerry, and to you. I've been following your saga (but not commenting) and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about you and Gerry. You've shown such strength and grace and humor; I'm positive I would have been a hysterical basket case.
Take good care of yourself in France. It's a beautiful country and the food is beyond compare. I'll continue to keep you and Gerry in my thoughts.
I'm wishing you both the very best. Good luck.
You've got lots of prayers and good wishes coming from my little part of Massachusetts. At day + 10,000 you two will only have a faint memory of this part of your saga - most of which will be joy and sunshine.
Enjoy your time in France although you'll fuss and worry and miss Gerry and the kids. Take time for Annie for a change!
hugs to you all
You will love France. We just came back from a 2 week trip, one week in the south and one week in Paris. I LOVE the south of France!
Thinking good and healthy thoughts for you both. Hang in there...
France is for the best. Gerry will be glad that you won't see him at his worst (it feels humiliating--it's okay with nurses and strangers, but it's hard with spouses, I think) and that you're recharging your batteries for a lot of caring when you get back.
I'm so glad things are going as well as they are. That's a good sign. You are amazing, well-loved, and loving people, and we're all here when you need us.
best wishes today Annie and Gerry. Gerry looks great by the way. Hang in!
I hope everything went well for Gerry today...I'm glad to hear Hannah and Max made it home safely and Gerry's mom and sister are there to share the load...I know the feeling of wanting to be excited about something for yourself, but you're almost "afraid" to be...I think (as a spousal caregiver) it will be the best thing for the both of you and a well deserved break for you...Gerry's mom and sister will have the opportunity to care for him and not feel like they are just guests.
I wish the best for you all today just as I do every day (because here is the first place I come to every morning to get the lastest.)
xxoo Nancy
Hi Annie:
I was just thinking about you and Gerry and wondering how the transplant went today. I'm sure you're exhausted. I hope Gerry is doing well.
Keeping you in my thoughts.
You are amazing. Best wishes to your whole family. Sending thoughts and prayers your way.
Hi Annie,
I went through a stem cell transplant for multiple myeloma this past May. By coincidence I just got the results of my 100 day tests yesterday, and got a good look at the amazing power of that difficult medical procedure. I'm celebrating complete remission!!
Note to Gerry... It's a rough road but it's going to be worth it. Hang in there!
Hope your visit to France is refreshing and renewing! My prayers are with you both.
Thinking about both you and Gerry today -- imagine what Day Plus 1000 (or even Day Plus 100) will be like!
And safe travels to France!
Knitting needles are not allowed on flights inside the EU, but if they're a smaller size and wooden or plastic they probably won't spot them in the security x-ray so they'll probably be OK...a friend of mine regularly flies to and from London with 7mm bamboo circulars or wooden sock needles and she hasn't had any problems yet! Good luck, and bring a plastic darning needle and waste wool just in case!
Warmest wishes for you, Gerry, and everyone involved, we're rooting for you over here in Holland! Let's see those days adding up! Take care of yourselves and each other! Go guys go!!
Holding you, Jerry, the children, and your whole family in the Light. Joan Wells
You and your family will be in our thoughts and prayers. We'll have to start that 100 day countdown!
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home