Day One

Can't sleep. I've been awake for an hour, anticipating Mike's first chemo treatment for his second bout with esophageal cancer.

The protocol is three days of chemo – day one is eight hours, days two and three are three hours – three weeks apart, four times. He'll be getting much more toxic drugs this time than he had two years ago. Then, we were surprised at how few side effects he experienced. He was tired, but not crushing fatigue. He was only nauseous following one chemotherapy treatment. Radiation didn't bother him at all.

He's not a candidate for radiation this time, as the two tumor sites are too close together. They don't want to radiate an area that's been previously treated.

So chemotherapy it is, and it's stronger because it's a different type of cancer cell. More aggressive. More likely to spread. 

Adding another layer of stress to the situation was his accident Thursday evening. He's fine – one pretty bad laceration on his left arm was his only injury – but the truck is totaled and we're a one-car family. Hopefully we can find something for him soon, although I don't think he'll be driving anywhere on his own for a while. 

In daylight, next day.

At the scene, Thursday evening.

I haven't written about the accident yet. He was coming home from a church vestry meeting. He rounded a curve and ran into a large tree which had fallen across the road. We've had a lot of rain lately, and trees randomly fall all over the mountains here. Sometimes they only knock out power lines. This one did that and almost killed my husband.

The emergency responders all agreed he was lucky to be alive. Had he driven by a few seconds earlier, the tree would have fallen on him as he was driving. As it was, he could barely exit the vehicle. The roof of the cab was caved in, as well as the hood, and the windshield was shattered. 

It happened at about 9:30 pm. We didn't get home from the Emergency Room until 2 am. It's all still kind of surreal. 

This stress eater has been hanging on with WW tracking by a thread. But I'm drowning in emotions. And numbing myself with phone games and ice cream.

Monday is my reset day for points … my plan is to get Mike settled in the chemo chair with his books, mp3 player, and snacks, and then head to a nearby café for lunch and to work on re-typing my aunt's family history book. My best estimate for points for a fried green tomato sandwich would be 16. Perfectly doable with a zero-point breakfast and my planned dinner of chicken noodle soup and mixed melon salad.

Need to stay away from the ice cream tonight.

Be careful what you wish for

Today's post has absolutely nothing to do with fitness or weight loss or counting calories. Well, at least starting out it doesn't, who knows where I'm going to end up?

I'm electing to begin receiving my Social Security benefits in May, when I will turn 62 and before the GOP does anything to destroy them. Heh. I mentioned to my husband on Saturday that we might want to think about replacing my car at some point, since we'll have a little extra income.

You guys are SO SMART. You know exactly where this is going, don't you? He decided to take my car – the one in the garage with the all-wheel drive and no snow on the windshield – to church yesterday morning, since there were snowy and ice patches on the roads. Less than five miles from home, he hit a deer. Head-on.

He's fine, not a scratch, THANK YOU GOD. The airbags didn't even deploy. The deer is quite dead, however, and so, we think, is the car. We'll find out today if it can be repaired, but it has 120,000 miles on it and might not be worth fixing.

The front end is quite smashed. Radiator, left headlight, bumper – all are crumpled and broken. With little tufts of deer fur here and there. Ick.

I elected not to go to church yesterday and  – amazingly! – was within earshot of my phone when he called. Driving his truck, I delivered a warm coat and gloves to him while we waited for the authorities. NOTE TO SELF: When the weather is bad, always toss some warm outerwear in the car. You never know.

So we'll be spending the day at the repair shop, hoping for the good news that the damage isn't as bad as we think it is, but preparing for the possibility that we might have to go car shopping.

I'm just grateful he's not in a hospital bed. We can take care of the car, one way or another. And I'd rather take care of it together than on my own.