MOST of the time I like weekends....
The last couple of days…..eh, I could have done without them. Let’s recap:
Friday morning: we find out Judi’s chemo isn’t working and that the hospice program will start working with us. I go back to work and am somewhat ineffectual.
Friday afternoon: I realize I haven’t done a damn thing about Owen’s 7th birthday party and head out to the stores only to spend a ridiculous amount on an extremely simple party. Next year I will revolt against the goodie bags.
Friday evening: Owen is besides himself with whininess remembering friends he didn’t invite and changing his mind about his birthday cake until I decide it will be a miracle if he survives to the party. Ernie is phenomenally grumpy but does make the cake after swearing up and down about going to the store for milk and vanilla. He decides not to get the other things we need at the store as he’ll go back tomorrow morning. Makes TONS of sense to me. I am not feeling well but attribute it to stress. Judi is feeling terrible, shaking with chills and vomiting. I am the WORST nurse…I gagged the whole time I held the trash can for her. We laugh about it---I told her, “I’ll care for you however you need it ----I’ll just be gagging the whole time!” I sat with her until she warmed up a little bit and I had a scrambled egg and went to bed, figuring I’d clean the house and get ready for the party in the morning.
A little after 3:00 in the morning Ernie woke me and said Judi was calling me. I stumbled in. She was parched with thirst as she has been lately and a little panic stricken. I got her something to drink and sat with her a bit and then stumbled back to bed.
Saturday morning: I wake up feeling incredibly ill and lay there saying, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” How can I cancel Owen’s party? He’s been having a hard time of it lately and desperately looking forward to this. I tell myself I’ll feel better if I get up. I am wrong. I go downstairs and cry at how much there is to do. I broach the idea of cancelling the party with Owen. It does not go over well. Ernie says he will do it all and sends me back to bed.
Saturday day: I listen to my angel of a friend Ann clean our house and help Ernie get everything ready for the party. I just lay there listening and sleeping and wishing someone would come see if I want something to eat or drink. I don’t want anything I just want to be asked. It’s o.k. though. I sleep through most of the party although Owen comes up halfway through and glowingly reports, “Mom, they’re all here and the pizza is here and we’re having a Guitar Hero challenge.” Then he hugs me and tries to convince me to have pizza. I decline.
Saturday evening: I make it downstairs for a little bit after the party. Ricky, Leo, Owen and Parker are running around the house with guns (and yes I’m the one that didn’t want my children to play with guns) while Sophie follows them around admonishing them that she’s NOT playing with them. At one point Ricky shouts----“look, Sophie is Princess Lea.” Another time I hear Leo shout, “Quit hitting me in the head …..my head is invincible. “ Parker is wearing one of Owen’s Indiana Jones hats and looks uncannily like a young Frank Sinatra. It’s all in the tip of the hat. Ernie tries to get him to sing “Fly Me to the Moon” to no avail. I go back to bed and sleep.
Sunday morning: I get up, feeling a little better. Judi’s dear friends Claude and Liana, and their son Matthew, come to get her dog Wally. Wally has just not been happy here. He’s stayed with us in the past and been o.k. but I think he knows. Judi is very, very sad but she did it out of love for Wally. He loves Claude, Liana, Matthew and is madly in love with their dog Taffy. They have a totally dogcentric home and he will be happy but still…..
Sunday evening: Slept for a good part of the afternoon. Sat with Judi awhile, helped her get ready for bed. I know she misses Wally terribly. Now I’m going to email a couple of people for her. I feel like I’m getting a cold AGAIN.
Hospice comes tomorrow.