Why Can't I Read Maps?
I once went garage sale-ing in San Francisco with a friend and so failed at reading the map that she pulled over and grabbed it from me. Literally grabbed the map from me.
I don't know why it is that I can't read the darn things. I can't. I just pretty much can't. Its weird and embarrassing.
They have Eliot's treatment plan layed out for us on a map of sorts and I read it constantly. I pull it out of its file at least once and more like three times a week. I've written the dates that things are happening so many times that I have things crossed out and circled and re-arranged and all crazy.
I read it constantly because I'm often trying to organize our lives around the hard parts.
The funny thing is that as much as I've read it I can't read the stinking thing. I've misinterpreted it in so many odd ways its getting to be. Well. Like trying to find garage sales in nice neighborhoods in San Francisco. Difficult. So difficult that someone should really pull the car over and take this thing out of my hands.
From what I can tell after asking too many questions this morning Eliot's last hurrah - what appears at least to me to be an awfully intense time - begins on April 26.
He will have a spinal tap that day. He'll get 2 types of chemo in his port. He'll get one in his spinal fluid. He'll also start his four weeks of steroids. Oh joy. Oh joy. Oh dear God will I make it through this? Yikes.
His four weeks of steroids will also include four weeks of anti-depressants to hopefully take the edge off. It will include a shot in his leg muscle and four more shots of chemo administered through his port.
Those four delightful weeks will be followed by two weeks which include nine more bits of chemo in his port another spinal tap and a drug given orally that he hasn't had before.
That scary bit of fun (barring any delays and my probable mis-reading of the map) will end June 7. The good news is that is a full three weeks earlier than I anticipated. Lets hope I read this correctly and we don't have any delays.
I don't know why it is that I can't read the darn things. I can't. I just pretty much can't. Its weird and embarrassing.
They have Eliot's treatment plan layed out for us on a map of sorts and I read it constantly. I pull it out of its file at least once and more like three times a week. I've written the dates that things are happening so many times that I have things crossed out and circled and re-arranged and all crazy.
I read it constantly because I'm often trying to organize our lives around the hard parts.
The funny thing is that as much as I've read it I can't read the stinking thing. I've misinterpreted it in so many odd ways its getting to be. Well. Like trying to find garage sales in nice neighborhoods in San Francisco. Difficult. So difficult that someone should really pull the car over and take this thing out of my hands.
From what I can tell after asking too many questions this morning Eliot's last hurrah - what appears at least to me to be an awfully intense time - begins on April 26.
He will have a spinal tap that day. He'll get 2 types of chemo in his port. He'll get one in his spinal fluid. He'll also start his four weeks of steroids. Oh joy. Oh joy. Oh dear God will I make it through this? Yikes.
His four weeks of steroids will also include four weeks of anti-depressants to hopefully take the edge off. It will include a shot in his leg muscle and four more shots of chemo administered through his port.
Those four delightful weeks will be followed by two weeks which include nine more bits of chemo in his port another spinal tap and a drug given orally that he hasn't had before.
That scary bit of fun (barring any delays and my probable mis-reading of the map) will end June 7. The good news is that is a full three weeks earlier than I anticipated. Lets hope I read this correctly and we don't have any delays.
posted by Sara at 8:03 PM
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