Today is "Day Zero", the term given to the day before chemo begins. For those with good math skills, and adequate caffeine on board, that means tomorrow is "Day One", and then off we go from there on our 18 week journey. This evening Gabrielle takes some additional medicine to get ready for the big onslaught of high power drugs tomorrow. One of them, dexamethasone, is guaranteed to keep her awake, so we'll most likely but watching all sorts of late night infomercials, Leno, and baby even start the Vicar of Dibley DVD's that Kay kindly loaned us. Don't know anything about the vic, but should be good for a few laughs.
Yesterday, in addition to some visitors with amazing food (breakfast, lunch and dinner no less...a trifecta!), we received another gift which is equally a delight: beach glass from Chuck. He is a good friend who spends some of his time up on Shaw Island where he turned us on to the fine art of beachcombing for shards of glass. It actually gets quite addictive, strolling along with nothing to do but wander and search for old broken bottles that have been worked over by the gentle sanding action of the waves and rocks to form pieces of art. Here is a picture of some of our treasures:
A couple of these pieces are ones Chuck brought over. Take a look at the big one and the piece just in front of it. Obviously, the big one is the bottom of an old wine bottle, but now it is a work of art, especially with those barnacles. Just in front of that one, is a rare purple piece. Chuck says they are especially valuable because the purple is due to lead which they don't use any more and that it must be at least 50 years old. I'm sure glad we don't all turn purple when we hit 50.
Just last weekend, Renee and I went beachcombing where we found our first blue piece of glass (far left). Renee also found the top of what most certainly is a Rainier beer bottle which fits her just like a ring.
I like the whole picture of an old busted piece of a bottle with sharp edges, good for nothing but the recycle bin, being gently worked on over time to create an object of beauty with gentle smooth edges and a fine, sanded surface that is fun to look at and hold in your hands. Isn't that what happens to all of us with the sands of time? Just as long as we don't turn purple, and I would prefer not to grow too many barnacles. Here's to Day One tomorrow. Maybe I'll slip a couple of pieces of beach glass into Gabrielle's pocket for good luck (most likely not the wine bottle).