Howdy, folks. Just a quick update before I head out into this blustery day on my way to the beloved salt mines. As I've said before, that's where Ward Cleaver used to repair to, though I suspect that it was just a ruse and Salt Mines was the name of the local watering hole, where he would get together with Lumpy Rutherford's and Eddy Hascal's dads to talk about the shenanigans their kids were up to. But that's a little aside.
Gabrielle has definitely hit the wall. That's what double chemo will do for you. No energy to do much of anything, which is especially sad, as...you guessed it...it's trash day again. How will she ever manage? And there's all that yard waste to pick up due to fallen branches from this blustery day (see paragraph above). I won't be much help as I'll be at Salt Mines, a new Richmond Beach watering hole I just invented. The nausea has hit big time. She's lost a couple more pounds, despite noshing on some amazing chicken mirabella (sp?) courtesy of Jennifer and Tim. That's good stuff!
To add insult to injury, she needs some shots to stimulate her bone marrow: Neupogen. Yesterday, I spoke with someone who had had them and he told me that the bone pain is very real and that it hits about three to four days after the shots. He said he almost wore a hole in the carpet pacing around just to feel better. This has us all a little worried as to what's in store for the rest of the week, so prayers would be much appreciated. So far, this morning, Gabrielle has been awake since 5:00 (which in her old world would be like 4:00 AM standard time). That's early by anyone's clock, unless you're a lark, which she ain't. She's been quite nauseous and has some abdominal pain.
But Gabrielle is sporting a new "do", courtesy of her very kind hairdresser, Jintana (sp?) who made a house call with a set of clippers. She looks very stylish in her new crew cut and closely trimmed sides. Daniel wanted to join in the fray, so after Jintana left, Gabrielle took out our own clippers and gave him a good going over with a Number 1 blade. In case you aren't too familiar with the numbering blades on clippers, they go like this: Number 1: gnat's eyelashes; Number 2: Marine recruits; Number 3: Navy recruits; Number 4: Steve's prior buzz cut; Number 5: get a haircut, Hippie. Needless to say, his is short, short. He's been wearing a ski hat around the house just to keep warm, even at dinnertime. But I am enjoying the fact that I've got another fuzzy scalp I can rub and he isn't even charging me a quarter to do so!
So that's it for this morning. I hope that the next few days see a little more perkiness from Gabrielle and that the aforementioned bone pain isn't as bad as we are fearing. More later....