Cleo's Daddy

It seems silly to write a blog about my own struggles with my husband's cancer diagnosis, because 1) I don't have cancer, he does. 2) It's a "great" diagnosis. It's the kind of cancer everyone recovers from. So really, we don't have much to be sad about. We are celebrating the great diagnosis. It's just a tough six months in front of us, that's all. But there is a light at the end, and we'll be OK.  3)  There are so many worse things that could happen. I feel like I don't deserve to feel stressed or saddened by this. A Facebook friend of mine lost her husband this spring. He died. My husband is still here, and there is a promise of a full life on the other side of this. So it's hard to acknowledge my saddness in all this. People go through much, much worse things in life. 4) People are so wonderful to us right now. We are so, so blessed by so many wonderful friends, and I am so thankful for all their support and kindness because...

The ER was loud. Beeping on top of beeping in a non-rhythmic, unending rhyme that never stopped. Still, it felt weird to be there for pneumonia. We couldn't figure out why they were making such a big deal. His x-ray at urgent care hadn't looked fabulous, but ER worthy? They took him for a cat scan while I ran around the hospital looking for a vending machine. I found some awful generic Cheetos mix thing that seemed to be the only thing that was reasonably priced and got us each a bag. We'd eat more when we got home. When we met back in our ER room, we quickly Facetimed the girls while we waited for the results. We chatted happily, and assured them we'd be home soon. Another moment I will never forget is the look on our three year old's face when she saw her daddy in the hospital gown. She cried, and asked why he was wearing that. It seemed small at the time, but later, after the doctor had talked to us, my husband said, "She knew." She's always ...

The bottom fell out from under us about a month ago. My husband had been sick all fall. He was traveling more than ever, but had this cold he couldn't shake. He even went to an allergist, and then an acupuncturist to try to relieve some sinus pressure. We couldn't figure out what it was, but he just couldn't shake it. He bought an air purifier, mounds of vitamin C tablets, anything he could to feel better. In about October I finally text-shamed him enough to go to urgent care. I told him I wanted a blood test because I knew something wasn't right, but he told me that the doctor there said I wasn't a doctor and it was just bronchitis. A blood test wouldn't have shown anything anyway, but an x-ray would have. They didn't take an x-ray. The bronchitis never seemed to clear up, so on the way back from church one Sunday in November he said he thought he'd go back to Urgent Care. That was wise, I told him. Maybe it was pneumonia. He went to Urgent Care, ...

If you ask my 3 year old who Cleo is, she'll say "She's my best friend. She doesn't listen. She's not fake." That is pretty much all you need to know. If someone colored on the walls, it was probably Cleo. The stuffed animals all over the floor? Cleo? Why is my daughter dancing around naked? Cleo's mom told her to. Bathroom visits take twice as long because we have to wait for Cleo to take her turn too. The other day, I caught my daughter cleaning up the floor in her room, and she patiently explained to me that Cleo had pooped on the floor, so she was dumping water on the spot. When I suggested that since Cleo has imaginary poop, maybe it could be cleaned with imaginary water. This did not go over well. My older daughter, whose six, has asked the three year old why she plays with Cleo, if Cleo is so mean. That should tell you about what we overhear when the three year old is playing by herself. The two of them are always fighting. So when my husban...