Yesterday I was driving the kids to violin and I noticed George in the rear view baby mirror, signing really loudly. Well, I guess you can’t sign loudly, but if you could, what he was doing would certainly be yelling. “ALL GONE! EAT!! HOT!!! ALL GONE!!!” I asked the other two boys in his row of seats what he was talking about, and they told me he had a mouth full of fries.
I should have known. But I knew for sure we hadn’t done drive-through since our way back from Atlanta, and I really think George actually hadn’t had fries since on our way going to Atlanta on Thursday. Yuck. Those fries were either two or five days old. Oh well, at least they’re “ALL GONE!!!!”
Speaking of yuck, I spent 5.5 hours in the infusion center today, and I’ve decided that chemotherapeutic agents make me feel bad. I had an allergic reaction to one of the drugs today, necessitating even more noxious chemicals. Usually I feel worse on day two than day one, so I thought I’d be OK tonight, but no such luck. Sam is serving at our regular Latin Mass tonight, and the big Missa Cantata tomorrow… so maybe I’m getting the worst of the side effects tonight so I can make it up to church tomorrow? Probably not, but one can always hope.
I am also hoping that I can get a new card reader tomorrow so that we can get back to the photos. Dixon or one of the big kids is going to have to go get it for me, though. I used to take pride in being tough and bouncing right back to work after chemotherapy. No longer. I’ve decided that driving and all just isn’t smart until I’m feeling better. Go ahead and tell me you told me so. You were right. And now I’m going back to bed where it is very still and very quiet. I feel awful.