Let me tell you -- there's nothing like a good case of leukemia to give us an excuse to travel and to travel often! Since Gary will not be going back for the second round of chemo until Monday (when his platelet count will be higher) we are leaving Thursday morning to go to Atlantis in the Bahamas. We hear it is a fabulous resort and are hoping to have fun in the sun and maybe hit the jackpot playing nickel slots! We are leaving our beloved children in the care of the large Grandparent Posse back here at home. Base camp will be my mother's, with the other Grandparents checking the kids in and out as needed. A tag-team effort. Gary and I will be blissful immune to this chaos, as we will be lying in beach chairs sipping exotic fru-fru drinks (OK, probably iced teas.)
Gary and Libby are napping at the moment. Gary has been battling morning headaches and nausea from the Gleevec he is taking. We're going to try to move the pill taking schedule around to later in the morning to see if we can avoid the upset stomach issues.
Gary is going to the RDA State-of-the-Union meeting with a collegue today -- I'm glad he will be getting out to see his work friends. The kids and I are planning an intellectual afternoon of napping and sandbox digging (hopefully not simulatneously)
Libby is crawling now -- or at least her version of the GI Joe jungle crawl. Her purpose in life now is to get into whatever Patrick is playing with at the monent. The annoying little sister is in full swing.
Anyone out there been to Atlantis? Check in...
It was great seeing Gary last night at the company event! He looked good. Keep it up Gary!
Joe and I scheduled romantic side-by-side platelet donations at the center this week. As with a typical blood donation, there are thousands of questions to be answered before you can be approved as a donor ("Have you ever had sex, even once, with anyone who has ever driven past a tattoo parlor, even if it was not in their own car?") I hesitated on only one question -- "Have you ever accepted money or bribes for sex?" and thinking, the gold bracelet that Joe gave me last December probably doesn't count. It's weird to have one needle with blood running out, and another with blood running in. I tried to watch the movie instead, but The Last of the Dogmen wasn't too captivating. Here's a hint. If the dog in the movie pulls a lacy bra out of a laundry hamper in Scene 12, will the two main characters have sex before or after Scene 28? Regrettably, they didn't engage while we were there. Of course, I can go back in 2 weeks and take up where I left off. (I expect to be fine 2 weeks from now.) I am considering the holes in the inside of my elbows. Is it really important to lock your elbows in place for over an hour, or can you discreetly turn the palms of your hands inward to rest the joints? I AM over fifty, you know (but Gary is young, and he has the hard part). Other donors offer distractions. Here’s one, a chubby guy in his 20’s with one of those ripped up T-shirts. Big holes where the sleeves used to be. Pants that are too short and too broad and too low all at the same time. Hairy legs and socks with no shoes. (But he’s giving blood. Does he have a friend, child, or niece with cancer? Gary has youngsters.) Here’s one, a young woman who looks positively stoned. A glazed smile on her face as she settles into the chair. (But Marcy’s young and maybe this woman has a husband with cancer.) “If your lips start feeling numb or tingly, let me know. I’ll give you a TUMS,” the nurse says to me. Immediately my lips start feeling numb and tingly. Am I going to get sick? Why would I get sick? (Gary’s sick.) My hour is up, and the nurse clamps off the various tubes and needles, then shows me the platelets that were harvested. It looks puny. A little bit of mocha milkshake in a plastic bag. (But it may help someone stay alive. Maybe Gary.)