Fridayyyyyyyy

Oh what a night. Not bad. Just loooong. Dad didn't quite sleep last night. This morning - yes. Last night - no. He wouldn't say it was nerves, but that's what I think. I mean he was all tethered up via cath to this awful chemo pumping contraption. Even if he was tired, how could he get to sleep? But don't you know that about 20 minutes after he finally put his head on the pillow (ahem... 830am-ish).... his little pumper machine started beeping. (But see I didn't realize this at first.... I was so tired....I couldn't quite think.... I thought it was his pager which will beep once every two minutes... but this was two beeps every one minute. Argh!)

So far though, no side effects from the Chemo. But Dr Chawla did say that dad may feel effects from it now, or the real test might be in about a week to week and a half, dad's blood cells will start to drop, and that's when he'll start feeling the real fatigue and nausea. I told dad: "Good thing I'm getting outta here. I'll buy you a bucket." Ha. He loves me. He has no choice. =)

Dad was successfully unhooked from his chemo pumper this afternoon. And then had one more bag infused of anti-nausea meds, and now he's a free man. He kept forgetting he had to tote that thing around. He'd be standing at the bathroom counter brushing his teeth, then walk away, and that darn thing kept holding him back. Like a leash!

As a sort of celebration, Dad and I went to dinner out on the town. LOVE the valet parking. LOVE. IT. Sooooo.... in honor of Dad's first chemo, and my first shot, we had margaritas! (That's right. My first shot. I so rarely drink anyhow... but eh, why not? And with my dad? Hell ya.)

Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmy!

A few funny things that I have to get onto the blog, before I lose them altogether:

• There's a pharmacy here called 'Hortens and Converse.' We got all of his prescription meds there. It's also a medical supply wholesale kinda place. Walkers, wheelchairs, crutches all strewn about. Anyhow. For the life of him, Dad keeps calling it 'Hortens and Clubfoot.' He doesn't even try to be funny. It's just the idea of all the disabilities in addition to the 2 syllable C-word that forms the clubfoot conclusion.

• Yesterday at Dr Chawla's office for the chemo hook up, Dad was waiting in one of the patient chairs, and he asked me if I would hand him his wallet, cell phone and pager. He thought he had given them to me earlier to hold, but he hadn't. So I looked through his briefcase and couldn't find them there. Shoot. Probably left them down in the car.... a minute late his brief case beeps. And we look at each other. What now? Dad has inconspicuously as possible (as to not draw attention for the very many medical professionals who were in the same room...) slowly lifts his brief case to his head and.... listens. He looks like he's 4 years old with that silly little grin. I die laughing.

Tomorrow we will move dad from the Ramada to Comfort Inn. It's within walking distance to most everything including St John's, Dr Chawla's, most restaurants and The Clubfoot. He plans on being down here for the next 3 weeks. This will (time-wise) get him through the next round of chemo, and then he'll come home. If all goes well then, he'll get chemo every 3 weeks, blood draws every 2 weeks, and cat scans every 6 weeks. Still to be determined is additional surgery on his wrist as well as the 4 masses in his lungs. Time will tell.

All for now. I'm going to sleep for a long time.