Root Beer Run

This morning I requested time off for Tate’s last two chemotherapy appointments.  Then I put my head on my desk and cried.  I cannot, after more than three years of watching him go through treatment, imagine that in two months this part ends and a new chapter begins.  I don’t know what life after chemotherapy looks like; I anticipate joy, release, exhaustion, and a certain degree of wariness because only time will tell if it all worked. I vacillate between terror and elation not knowing what the future holds for Tate and the rest of our family, but there’s comfort in accepting that we did the very beset we could and the only direction to go from here is forward, whatever forward looks like.

Last two appointments. So much gained and lost.

Last two appointments. WAHOOOOO!

Tate’s third-to-last appointment went really well. His weight and his ANC were both good. Tate is making a huge effort to eat regularly whether he wants to or not, and he managed to weigh exactly the same this month as he did last. He looks so good!

Tate’s cat was waiting for him when he crawled back in bed post-chemotherapy. The cat has demonstrated constant attitude problems and has a habit of dragging half-dead wildlife into Tate’s room in the middle of the night, but we all agree he has earned his keep. I really do not know what Tate would have done without Atticus’s constant companionship. A benefit to having a pet I hadn’t considered until it was happening is that even when Tate was in a wheelchair he would get out of bed – which was really hard for him to do – to take care of his cat. The cat, jerk that he is, has zero sympathy when his food dish is empty and stands in the hallway yelling at Tate until he gets fed.

This had us laughing. Tate labeled the Prednisone bottle with a cranky face, and that says it all.

This post is late and haphazardly done at best. I never even tied the title into story, but you can be sure it involved root beer. It was hard to write this. Not because the content is painful or anything like that, but I have had a heck of a time with my computer. Somehow the charger broke (it was Scott), and the day I plugged in a new one, our old blind dog Hazel got a paw tangled up in the cord and ripped it out of the wall as she walked by, breaking that one, too. Then Amazon lost the second replacement charger, and the third replacement charger was just delivered today. There was a lot more I wanted to put into this post in regard to content and quality, but my laptop electrocutes my left hand anytime I start typing, which is at this point about the funniest thing ever.