Home Again, Home Again!

Jiggety jig!

I am thrilled to be ensconced in my very own chair, in my very own house, in my very own jammies. Zack - the hero driver - navigated us out of the hospital, north to the pharmacy, and home through the foot of snow. Many thanks to Danny next door for shoveling a path for us. We really do have the very best neighbors ever.

Only a minor insurance adventure at the pharmacy. Cigna didn't precertify the oral antibiotics, so the pharmacy wouldn't give them to us unless we pay retail ($2500). Quick calls to the discharge nurse and the amazing Dr. L. Cigna has gone home for the weekend, but LFH discharge nurse thinks she can get them to precertify the drugs on Monday. Pharmacist pulls out his hero badge and GIVES us three days of antibiotics to get us through until the certification. Zack runs out of the pharmacy with a sack full of meds, and whisks me home.

Although I was very well cared for at the hospital, and received lots of well wishes on my way out, I can hardly describe how unbelievably great it feels to be home. And, I'm wearing pants!

Going Walkies

I took myself for a quick walk around the floor this afternoon, and realized a few things:

Top ten signs you've spent too long in the hospital

1) You can say hello to most of the nurses by name.
2) Staff wave, call you by name, and wonder whether you are "having nice walkies?"
3) You forget you aren't wearing pants
4) Staff point you out as you go by to other patients as "that cute little cancer girl"
5) Jello, or no Jello? Serious deliberation
6) Staff start asking you real questions: "does the cancer hurt? was chemotherapy hard? you are so young, does your mom worry?" (everyone asks about your mom)
7) You run out of veins.
8) The routine begins to make sense.
9) Doctors forget why you were originally admitted.
10) Coming back to the room, you look for your housekeys to open the door.

The Breach, Again

Zack and I are returned from our very rejuvenating vacation in New York. We're still digesting all of our NYC faves (pizza, Chinese, bagels, pretzels, pastrami, and, of course, a black and white cookie). We saw theater, movies, and museums - we are so full of culture we could be yogurt. Our very favorite moment: during the curtain call for Patrick Stewart in Macbeth (just as fantastic as it sounds), a guy to our left yelled "Bravo, Captain Picard!" Yay, trekkies!

So, here we are now at the watershed moment. Tomorrow will either be the first day of the pure prevention phase of my recovery, or it will be the first day of treatment for a new kind of cancer. I'm daunted by both options. On the one hand, I've gotten so used to being a full time patient that it will be strange to start making other sorts of plans. Sortof like being a Chicagoan in February - intrigued by the idea of spring, but skeptical that it could ever really happen. On the other hand, holy crap. Chemo, again. Radiation, again. Bucket day, again. Bald, again.

The craziest part, though, is that whichever way tomorrow goes, I know we can make it. We've got each other, our families, our friends, and a great medical team.

Zack will bring a computer tomorrow, and plans to post once I am out of surgery. If all goes well, I'll be home tomorrow night. For tonight, Zack and I are going out to dinner and celebrating. A little Italian, a little vino, a little fantasizing about the summer...nothing of consequence. Hey, we're still on vacation!