Chemo Round Four

Miles and I begin the day at a 900am toddler group. He has a blast licking paint, throwing balls and watching a puppet show. During song session, Miles climbs into a chair at the snack table and patiently waits by himself yelling "hi," every few minutes. He chows down on cheese and Pirates Booty (stealing the Pirates Booty off his classmates' plates) and then we go home. I jump into Boris' car and we head to Tower for round 4.

After waiting for longer than usual, Anne asks how we feel about a private room because there aren't any empty chairs. It sounds fancy so I say okay. But as we enter the room, I know it won't do. There's no reclining chair, just a bed with a bad mattress on it. I raise the back of the bed up as far as it will go but it's terribly uncomfortable. Anne promises to move me to a chair as soon as one opens up. As usual, we begin with a blood draw. As usual, my numbers are good, my white counts super high since I'm "special," as Anne and Angela say. And we begin. I don't have to wait long before Anne asks Boris to approve a newly empty chair. He does, we move and I'm much more comfortable. I ask Anne if I'm a pain in the ass and she says "yes, I was going to talk to you about that," and rolls her eyes.

Angela and I schedule my last 2 rounds of chemo. My last round is December 30. She's concerned I won't feel great for New Year's Eve, but I tell her it's highly unlikely I'll be out partying it up regardless and that I don't want to delay getting this over with. I can't believe I still have 2 rounds left and yet am so relieved that I only have 2 rounds left and then I get to meet Miracle Warrior! Angela tells me that everyone at the office holds me in such high regard and everyone is so impressed with how well I'm tolerating everything and with my attitude. I think she doesn't know me so well, but I'll take the compliment anyway.

As Anne administers my chemo, we discuss important things like how much we love Gossip Girl and how mad we are at Jenny's hair. Much to Boris' dismay, I spend the rest of the day window shopping online for designer bags and shoes. He wants to know what on earth I'm going to do with yet another pair of boots and forbids me from buying a gorgeous bag for $800. "But it's on sale," I proclaim. He gives me a look that says "you are crazy and better not spend $800 on a stupid bag" and reminds me that I'm barely working, he's working at a start-up and my new boobs are $30,000. Fabulous. "If you're going to buy anything now, it should be slippers and pajamas because you're not going to be going out much after Miracle comes. " True. But I can still collect, right? Wrong. Ugh.

One of the Bosom Buddies volunteers walks by with her basket full of junk food. I pass but then start craving Doritos. I beg Boris to track her down and grab a bag, which he does. It's a half bag of Doritos which means there are 5 chips in it. I devour them. When the volunteer walks by again, she asks if I want anything else. I turn to Boris and ask if it's bad if I have another bag. "Aren't you afraid it's going to give you cancer?" he asks. Good point. 4 rounds down. 2 to go.