Tuesday, April 19, 2011

A Morning in The Life Of...

6.45 am - Small Ironman son runs into our bedroom shouting 'Is it morning is it morning is it morning?'  My usual response: 'It isn't morning until mummy says it is' doesn't cut the mustard anymore. Small Ironman climbs into our bed for a cuddle.   Lies on his back wide awake asking questions about his day and telling us about Tom and Alex and other little friends in a loud non-morning voice.   



6.50 am - Run to Pharmaceutical Cornucopia (PC) on kitchen bench and take one tablet of PSK (which is otherwise known as Trammune or Trametes Versicolor (a kind of common mushroom) and must be eaten 30 mins before food).

6.52 am - Have shower.  Showers are quite fun at moment, with almost no hair.   I don't have to worry about getting it too wet.  Or washing it hardly ever.  And the water feels lovely on my head.  Son sits and talks to me in non-morning voice whilst I shower.  Son has no volume knob, it seems, so I have given up asking him to use inside voice.

7.00 am - Get dressed into clothes laid out night before.  Son very concerned I am dressed before him. 'Are you going to work today?' I tell him going to hospital to have more bad medicine.  'Oh' he says, losing interest immediately.  'Can I watch some TV now?'

7.05 am - Return to PC and take 3 tablets of Reishi, another kind of mushroom.    This is in tablet form because fresh Reishi not cleared to come from Japan yet due to earthquake.  Get son milk to drink whilst the Avengers is on.
 
7.08 am - Make peanut butter on toast for son.   Present toast to son.  Son cries because toast not in exact square shape.   Cut crusts off to make squarer.   Present for second time. Son says he has changed mind and now wants Vegemite and 'yellow butter' on an exact square toast shape.  I ask 'are you serious?' Son laughs demonically, his little kiss curl hanging over his forehead in manner of nursery rhymne boy.


7.12 am - Gargle with some Maldon salt dissolved in water.  This is to prevent ulcers.

7.14 am - Go into daughter's bedroom.  Daughter sound asleep and spread out across bed with bed coverings all askew, university student style.  Daughter is only 8 though.  Tell her time to get up.  Bribe her with toast and raspberry and vanilla jam.  Daughter moans and says not hungry and really really tired.  Wonder what daughter will be like as 13 year old.  Or 18 year old.

7.16 am - Take one tablet of green conifer needle oil.    I take these three times a day.  They prevent thrush and so far have worked really well.

7.18 am - Give Pepper the cat breakfast.    Pepper smells his breakfast disdainfully (it's too cold) and walks away, tail held high.

7.20 am - Ask son why he has not eaten second breakfast.  He says he has changed mind again and doesn't want his square toast.  I say 'I am not a restaurant.  Or a cafe.  Or even a greasy spoon type place desperate for customers.   No more breakfasts'.  Son's bottom lip starts to stick out.  I offer him Greek yogurt with passion fruit. Son smiles and says 'Yummy yes please'.

7.22 am Take
Codonopsis.  This is a Chinese herb known as poor man's ginseng, which can strengthen the immune system and help white and red blood cell counts. I take it as an extract dripped into a glass of water.

7.25 am - Re-enter teenage style daughter's room and turn light up really bright and tell her it is definitely absolutely time to get up.   And breakfast is on table and getting cold.

7.27 am - Eat cereal, half heartedly because it doesn't taste of much, just a cardboardy texture.  Drink beetroot and carrot juice.  Appreciate again the magic of the pointless huge juicer my mother gave me 4 years ago which now gets lots of use.

7.30 am - Take little homeopathic ball thing. Suck slowly.  Not sure what this is for, to be perfectly honest. Stare a little resentfully at husband sitting in relaxed fashion at kitchen bench reading IPad.

7.32 am - Do makeup.  Cover freckles with lots of Nars foundation.  Use really excellent Chantecaille magical skin creams for chemo skin.  Think again how much I love Mecca Cosmetica and the lady who has sold me all this great stuff.
7.40 am - Hear husband asking daughter to get out of bed.   Hear husband forcing her to get dressed.  Hear husband spending lots of time picking correct cream socks for her, and getting the seams around the right way and the shoe buckles done up tight enough (otherwise they 'hurt').

7.45 am - Put wig on, ruffle it and smile.


7.50 am - Dress son.  Persuade son that he can't wear Batman, Spiderman, Soldier or Superman costume to kindergarten. Son says loudly 'I am NOT wearing long sleeves ever. I am NEVER cold'. 
Allow son to wear shorts and short sleeved T shirt even though quite cold outside.  Grab small backpack shove in lunchbox and dump at door.    Grab daughter's lunch box shove in school bag and dump at door.

7.52 am - Drink lovely coffee made by husband.  Think about how looking forward to sitting down for three hours during chemo.  Notice daughter has not touched her breakfast.  


7.55 am - Assemble handbag must haves including Kindle, IPhone, wallet, book with cancer notes, cards, invoices, receipts, referrals etc.  Put nail polish in bag.  Take nail polish out again, concerned doing nails during chemo might appear flippant.  Decide do not care because never otherwise sit still for long enough to do nails.    


7.57 am - Go into daughter's bedroom to check she is ready to go.  She is sitting on the floor counting her pocket money. 'Mummy will the shops accept pence? What about Bali money?  What about Singapore money? Where can we exchange it?'  Then she shows me the rearrangement of her wardrobe, with lined up shoes in rainbow order.  Then shows me her redecoration of the dolls house, with a new piano room, and an outdoor camping area. Then remember we have forgotten PE bag and Library bag and cello and piano books.  Feel pleased am not dragging all that to school.  Wonder about possible deterioration of daughter's back when she is older. 
  

8.00 am - Gently heat up one cup of Chinese herbal drink, painstakingly made by me every three days.  This needs to be drunk half an hour after food.  My Chinese doctor has told me the ingredients but as he just wrote out the Chinese names they don't mean much to me.   Helps my digestion no end, however. Drink it quickly because doesn't taste very nice.  Feel pleased taste buds not very effective at the moment.


8.01 am - Kiss all and sundry good bye and drive to East Melbourne for chemo
.   

(This morning was brought to you by my homeopath and Chinese Doctor and Percy, Imogen and Martin.)  

23 comments:

Sarah B said...

Oh my gosh Jane, I'm exhausted just reading that! I have a friend who is currenty taking Chinese medicine for a variety of previously not very well treated ailments and she absolutely swears by them. The sounds like they taste bloody awful though!
re the nails at chemo, I figure if you have to go through the yuckiness of chemo, then you can do whatever you like while you are there :)

Maxabella said...

So familiar yet so very different, Jane. x

First House on the Right said...

I'm with Sarah, paint away! Nicolex

Jeanne said...

Jane..Your small Ironman sounds absolutely adorable and I say that now that my Ironman has moved beyond that stage. I remember it well. I hope you write more posts like this. I feel like I was looking over your shoulder the whole way thru. I can't begin to image what it must feel like with your assortment of medicines. So glad you to see you are staying organised and making it thru them all. Thinking of you with your handbag essentials and wishing you well.

Jeanne xx

Just Martha said...

Paint away i say!! Thanks for the update. Nice to know you still love coffee and darling husband makes you one. Life sounds so normal and... not. Also love that you are looking forward to resting for 3 hours doing your stuff. Love your state of mind Jane..... Good luck....

A Farmer's Wife said...

I think doing your nails whilst having chemo shows style!

Hope it is all going well for you.

Jenny said...

Thanks for the tour of your morning which is about as crazy as ours. I hope that chemo went well and you felt rested and came out with glamorous looking nails! ;-)

mise said...

The child stuff is my life exactly, and if I had to add in all the medicines and herbal stuff as you do, it would all be even more of a fray. I can hugely admire your fortitude while realising you have no choice - children are like that, illness is like that. This was a great post, and it's always a joy to hear how you are getting on.

Anna White said...

Your strong and beautiful x

count it all joy said...

I just adore the way you write. What a morning routine! I can so identify with cutting the edge off the toast to make life easier...because some times you just need to pick your battles.

How you manage to juggle it all and still maintain your humour is fabulous. I'll be thinking of you tomorrow morning when I have my first coffee of the day - it'll be a toast to you:) Meredy xo.

Kerry said...

So lovely to read a post from you Jane although how you have the stamina to record all of that let alone do it has me amazed. I am enthralled by the thought of you painting your nails during chemo. Surely there's a place for frivolity wherever you can find it. Please keep on finding it :)

Millie said...

So Miss Gorgeous, I see things haven't changed a bit at your place!!
Millie x

Raina Cox said...

You're the incarnation of an old US Army commercial - "We do more before 8am than most people do all day."

Jane said...

Ah, Jane. What a treat to hear from you again. Like Bron, I could *so* relate to much of it. How you are managing all of this is truly impressive. You are just extraordinary. Oh, and what colour are your nails now? J x

JMW said...

Jane, I haven't checked in with you in a while, so wanted to see how you were doing. Sounds like so much to deal with, but you've kept your wittiness about you, that's for sure. Thinking of you!

brismod said...

I often stare a little resentfully at my husband a whole hour before you do! His saving grace is that he makes a good coffee too. xx

Samantha said...

I often have that dilemma with toast, triangles or squares. Thinking of you Jane.x

scribeswindow said...

Mmmmm reminds me of my household. Today my morning involved vomit from my son who is sick with the flu. Came across your blog a few weeks ago and I've really enjoyed it.

Ann said...

The toast in squares - "no, no, no not like thaaaat" shouts my demonic angel. I am living your morning every morning. Apart from the cancer thing of course which as always you make sound much more manageable than I'm sure it is. I am in awe of you (again).

lesley said...

Interesting start to the day...... but then what you are going to do when getting to the hospital puts it all in perspective. Happy Easter.
Lesley

24 Corners said...

It sounds like you pirouetted through the morning gracefully and with care...you were strong and calm Jane...and the normality of your household routines sounded wonderful...even if it was a bit whirl-windy! Yur daughter and I would get along famously...I'm not a morning persong AT-ALL and love to distract myself with fluffy details that pertain to nothing of the moment! ;)
Wouldn't it be lovely if manicurists volunteered their time for people getting chemo...I bet even the men would enjoy a hand massage and a soak, the gentle touches would be very healing.
Happy Easter to you and your lovely family dear Jane...big hugs!!
xo J~

Deborah said...

Wow. My mornings are a cinch by a comparison and I still don't get a quarter of as much done. Glad to get a peak into your routine. You're amazing. Hope the nails are too! Love Deb xx

Anonymous said...

Things past cannot be recalled.

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