Right when I feel like I can't bear any more. Right when I stand in the dark place and look down, Art has a good day.
A day of hope, of strength, of return.
And then I feel stupid. I say to myself
"What is your problem?! He's fine!"
And I feel foolish.
My friends remind me his cancer has no baseline. No normal. Walking into his hospital room is like walking into a magician's office or parts of Iraq. You never know what to expect. Every single day is different. Normal is for other people right now.
So the doctor walks into the room of a patient and says "Do you want to go home tomorrow?"
No joke. That's what the doctor said to Art today at 2:45. They want him out of the hospital. I love wise doctors. Less germs at home. More love at home. More reminders of why he must fight, even if the reminders (our kids) bicker and fight among themselves.
He's doing really well considering all the chemo they have dumped into him. He is alert and mildly forgetful "Did I tell you about my dream last night?" Yes honey, twice in fact.
Home, he's coming home!
He will need a walker.
He will need an 02 tank.
He will need a stool for the shower.
He will need (really I will need) to learn how to give him shots of Heparin.
He must not spike a fever.
In the grand scheme of things, easy potatoes!
And, as a bonus, at 169lbs., when he moves in bed, it won't disturb me as much!
Always look on the bright side of life!
(Monty Python fans whistle here!)