R1 D18. Ups and Downs

The past few days have been amazing around here. The weather has been warm and sunny. I won't even complain about how windy it was because it was too nice for February in Kansas.

Mike's attitude and health seemed to match the weather, too. On Thursday he spent most of the day in the field. When he came home last night he was all smiles. I told him I was so glad that he got to be in the tractor, in his comfort zone. Me, I prefer chocolate. I also told him I was worried that he would overdo it. I didn't want him to work so hard or put in such a long day that he would be exhausted the next few days. He reassured me that it made him FEEL so good to be out there. He was HAPPY, and that is something I haven't seen in him in far too long. Seeing him like that almost made me forget that he has cancer. How can he be so sick when he seems so good?

This morning we went to the KU Cancer Center to meet our new doctor, Dr. Sirridge. My friend, Leslie, had arranged all of this for me, and I will forever be grateful to her. I instantly loved his nurse because I knew she was the type of nurse who wasn't going to let stuff fall in between the cracks. When Dr. Sirridge came in, I knew we were in the right hands. Some people just give you that feeling. He was nice, but not going to sugar coat things nice. He was funny, but he was serious. He was a straight shooter kind of guy. We LOVED him. So, my impression of KU Cancer Center North? Love Dr. Sirridge, Love Deb, Love Leslie. We got set up to go to North KC Hospital on Tuesday morning and get admitted for the 2nd round. Things are looking up!

When we got back to town Mike wanted me to drop him back off at the farm where they were working. I should have taken pictures of him. No one will believe me when I tell them that for 2 days in a row now, Mike Horton has been farming in a t-shirt and sweatpants. No overalls! Ha Ha!! This is the longest time period in my life that I haven't seen him in overalls... maybe now would be a good time to burn all of them? :) Anyways, so it was awesome to drop him off at the farm.

He came home a little early, again, so happy. I was truly starting to feel like this doesn't feel real. But in the good way. I guess I was more just pretending like life is normal and my husband doesn't have cancer. He's fine. He's more than fine. We've been so normal the last couple days and I have LOVED it.

The girls' pre-school teachers stopped by later in the afternoon to bring some food for breakfast tomorrow. I thought it was so sweet, but the best part was how excited the girls got about having their teachers at their house. They haven't stopped talking about it all evening. It really is the little things that mean so much.

Right after dinner (thank you, Jen) Mike asked me to look inside his lip. There it was. His first mouth sore. We read a few tips on things he can do to help take care of it and try to prevent more. He crawled in bed to snuggle with the girls and watch tv for a little while, and I got caught up in the depths of the internet. Dang it. I was hoping we could maybe bypass this side effect. So, I'm sitting there wrapped up in another woman's blog, who fought a hard battle with cancer, but sadly, passed away at the age of 42. I wasn't purposely doing that to myself. I didn't know that was how her story ended. But it was hitting me like a ton of bricks, this cancer crap SUCKS. My husband is 42 and has 3 kids under 6. He WILL beat this though. I know in my heart he will be cured. Then I hear, "Hey Bean? Come here."

I walk into our room, thinking he's going to either, 1. ask me to shut the lights off, get him a drink of water, fluff a pillow (all those silly little things that he likes to make me do when he's trapped with a sweet little girl on each arm.) or 2. ask what I'm doing and then laugh at me for the tears that are settled in my eye rims. He says, "Come here. Over on this side." So I do, and I sit on the bed beside him and he shows me a clump of hair in his hand. Dang it. Dang it. Dang it. Dang it. I lost it. I can't explain it, or understand it. He kinda laughed at me, and said, "Bean, it's ok. We knew this was going to happen." I know we knew. But I wasn't ready. I'm not READY for my husband to look sick from the outside. I know that's so crazy of me. He has always said he doesn't care about losing his hair. He just cares about getting healthy. I never felt like I feared him losing his hair. I honestly didn't think it would bother me too much. And then, there I am, uncontrollably sobbing over my shedding husband. Really, the dog sheds worse than this, but it just felt so hard. Then Molly asked why I was crying over Daddy's hair falling out. She asked, "Daddy, what are you going to look like without hair?" Mike laughed at her and said, "I'll look like Papa! But more handsome!" (Sorry, John, don't take that personal... you know he thinks he's the best looking guy around!) So then Lucy is laughing at the idea of Daddy being bald. And how can I be crying when everyone else is laughing? So I laughed too.

I'm feeling a little deflated now, but also renewed. I'm reflecting on these past few days and all of the emotions I've had. I've been able to practically forget, for periods of time, that Mike has cancer. I got to hear the sound of his diesel truck roaring up the driveway to signal dinnertime. We didn't feel like our identity was cancer this whole week. It was great. And then cancer snuck back in the door like, Hey remember me? I'm still here. Go away, cancer. Next week we pull out the big guns again.

Is it June yet?

xoxo

Robin