Who knew I needed to take one with me to the bathroom?
I discovered for myself the necessity of carrying this disposable medical provision on my person at all times. This morning, I threw up Dr. Pepper-coated cream cheese and bagel chunks all over myself while I was in the bathtub.
It was the first school day in our new house, and I was making sure the boys all had bikes and a way to get back in the house after school in case I was still at chemo. I also was up and out of bed and on the move early in order to get to my appointment on time. I should not have been doing so much all over the house so soon after waking. I know my body better than that. Walking back and forth and up and down stairs, plus eating breakfast before 9:00 is not the best choice for me.
I got the kids to school--everyone fed and dressed and brushed and tooth-brushed and socked and shoed and snack-packed and backpacked and helmeted. We discussed the new bike path to school and checked keys for re-entry. Having survived the morning, it was now my turn to get going.
I grabbed a bagel and realized that three bags of frozen fruit had been left on the counter all night. They missed the trip to the freezer, being hidden behind one of the many moving boxes. Luckily, they could make it this morning. I moved quickly to get them to their destination. Strawberries and peaches? Check. Blueberries? Would have been safe and sound next to their counterparts except for two holes in the bottom of the bag. As I moved them toward the freezer, thawed blueberry juice spilled all over my new kitchen! Rugs, countertops, wood flooring, cabinet doors, and even one pink slipper were all caught in the crossfire.
This mess could not wait. I had no idea what that juice would do to any of those surfaces, but I have read the message of caution on those boxes of store made blueberry muffin mix about blueberries staining. I had to get to work before any possible stains set in. What I thought would have been plenty of time before my own departure was then shortened by 20 minutes of cleaning.
I still had to bathe, shave my legs--which is why I chose bath vs. shower--eat breakfast, plus dressing and makeup-ing. I was just at that moment of perfect water temperature and height level when I felt the nausea coming on. Soon after, I felt like the outcome was definitely going to be food coming out the in pipe. There was no escaping it. Between all the chemo and pregnancy vomit, I know myself. Some nausea can be fought with deep, calming breaths or medicine. In some instances, that food and acid is finding an exit point, no matter what I do. This time, it was going to be the latter.
I had two options: 1) jumping out of that already-shortened soak time and sprinting staggering toward the WC or 2) just letting it happen head-on into that beautiful, bath-bombed water. Option one would take time, as I maneuvered my broken body over the tub wall, grabbed a towel, and attempted not to slip on any wet tile, all the while hoping I would actually make it to the toilet safely. Option two? Gross, plus another bath. Well, as fate would have it, my decision for me. I'm actually glad Mother Nature chose her own bath bomb, as draining and cleaning a tub was much easier than what I would have faced otherwise.
Another 15 minutes of cleaning and re-cleaning and re-cleaning ME, and I knew I was going to be late. But, I was bathed and MOSTLY ready. Then, I couldn't find a bra, which had been in a dresser being used in one of the boys' rooms. A trip upstairs and a quick search, and I was ready. Then, I couldn't find my backpack, the one with all my treatment supplies + computer. I even remembered as we were moving into our new house to put it in a "safe spot," one where I would be sure to spot it before chemo. A few minutes later, we were off, and only ended up being five minutes late.
I had time to breath and laugh on the way here and my blood pressure stayed just fine. (101/72). I even lost a few pounds from all that stepping and stair-climbing over the weekend's move. You would think I've dealt with this kind of thing a time or two!
And, I still made it here (mostly) on time, complete with pink wig and a smile, ready to BTHOC! Even the nurses noticed the turnaround. "The real you is here!"
When hard times come, and they will, remember that you can get through them. Like that old saying goes, "Blueberry juice + bagel vomit happens." Or something like that.
Keep on kickin' and beatin' that cancer.
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