Chloe's sick. So I should stay away from her. This is impossible--and not something I want to do anyway. At six this morning, I heard a little whimper downstairs, and it went straight to my gut. Even in the deepest sleep, I can feel my kids needing something, no matter how quiet they are. Of course, no one else heard little Chloe crying, so I went downstairs to see what was the matter. She had to go pee but was afraid in the dark. So I helped her, and she coughed all over me, and I didn't think to turn away. Then I put her back in bed and gave her a kiss.
Step 1: Remember that I have virtually no immune system.
Step 2: Stay away from crowds and sick people, including my own kids.
I think I'm fucked. I can't remember the first step, and I can't be bothered with the second one. This is too hard.
Last night, I had a bad moment. Actually, last night was good. People were dropping by to pick up their race shirts, and my friend Emilie came to hang out. But when everyone left, and I was in bed, I felt like crap. Not because of all the company, but just because of the chemo--and because of the horrific realization that I'm only on cycle 3 out of 8. Then I panicked: how the hell am I going to make it through EIGHT of these cycles? EIGHT???? I know people have done it, but it seems like a long-ass road ahead.
Sometimes, I really hate realizations.