1.5 weeks to go. (deer in headlights expression)
Okay. So, my last day at work will be a week this coming Wednesday. I'm not going to have everything ready to hand over, and I am also not ready to lose my identity as an employed person - especially employed by this employer. People always say: Oooo - you work for Employer Name? - wow. It makes a person feel good. Oh well, eh?
Mom is in her week of seclusion in this second round of chemo. The aches and pains lasted longer this time, and even though she is feeling better (as one does at this point in the process), she has a finite amount of energy which runs out before she is ready.
The hardest part of this whole process is the lack of information shared in advance. We know that after the third cycle of chemo, Mom is going for radiation, and she will have to go to Kelowna (2 hour drive each way) for that. But we don't know when that will start, how many sessions, how frequently the sessions, etc etc etc. For people who plan for every contingency, this is way tooooo little information. That "cross that bridge when we reach it" mantra sounds really good until you realize that if you'd known ahead of time that you were going to go in for radiation every week-day for a month, then you could have arranged some cheaper accommodation to save on driving back and forth. Cheaper accommodation doesn't get arranged on a whim.
We still haven't seen a place we would like to buy. We're getting to the point that if we pack any more we won't actually be able to function because (a) there won't be room left for a trail amongst the boxes, and (b) we will have packed all the things we need on a daily basis. We are already living with some work-arounds because things are packed.
I am going to miss Vancouver because of the excellent (compared) transit, and because I can buy Murchies Teas, mochi rice pie/cake from TNT, beautiful parmesan & Italian pasta sold by the number from Ugo & Joe's, Army & Navy deals, and amazing fabrics and notions from Dressew.
Also, while it has reached very chilly-for-here lows, it has reached argh-levels of low temperatures there. Poot. I have all these beautiful brollies and no snow boots. And my winter jacket is not gonna cut it. Bum.
However, there is a faint chance that marijuana will be legalized before I die, so we can look forward to growing our own weed plant in our own garden. Not a bad ambition. :)
Mom is in her week of seclusion in this second round of chemo. The aches and pains lasted longer this time, and even though she is feeling better (as one does at this point in the process), she has a finite amount of energy which runs out before she is ready.
The hardest part of this whole process is the lack of information shared in advance. We know that after the third cycle of chemo, Mom is going for radiation, and she will have to go to Kelowna (2 hour drive each way) for that. But we don't know when that will start, how many sessions, how frequently the sessions, etc etc etc. For people who plan for every contingency, this is way tooooo little information. That "cross that bridge when we reach it" mantra sounds really good until you realize that if you'd known ahead of time that you were going to go in for radiation every week-day for a month, then you could have arranged some cheaper accommodation to save on driving back and forth. Cheaper accommodation doesn't get arranged on a whim.
We still haven't seen a place we would like to buy. We're getting to the point that if we pack any more we won't actually be able to function because (a) there won't be room left for a trail amongst the boxes, and (b) we will have packed all the things we need on a daily basis. We are already living with some work-arounds because things are packed.
I am going to miss Vancouver because of the excellent (compared) transit, and because I can buy Murchies Teas, mochi rice pie/cake from TNT, beautiful parmesan & Italian pasta sold by the number from Ugo & Joe's, Army & Navy deals, and amazing fabrics and notions from Dressew.
Also, while it has reached very chilly-for-here lows, it has reached argh-levels of low temperatures there. Poot. I have all these beautiful brollies and no snow boots. And my winter jacket is not gonna cut it. Bum.
However, there is a faint chance that marijuana will be legalized before I die, so we can look forward to growing our own weed plant in our own garden. Not a bad ambition. :)