I've decided that today is a hang-out-in-pajamas, catch-up-with-paper-work day. (Just not the monogrammed PJs I ordered for Mother's Day. Those are on back order.)
Since returning from Hotel Hope on Tuesday, I've been busier than expected. Here's a brief rundown of what's been going on:
The Future's So Bright, You Gotta' Wear an Eye Patch: My right eye has become so sensitive to light that, even when I'm wearing dark glasses, I squint or completely close the eye to protect it from rays. Dr. Forman is stumped, but I've made an appointment with the ocular surgeon/opthamologist who provided a second opinion prior to my initial tumor biopsy. He's a brilliant, Harvard Med School grad and a former director at the Doheny Eye Institute, but that's not what impressed me most. In addition to taking photos of my eye tumor, he snapped shots of my torso rash and concluded, "I think you're going to find that all of these symptoms are related." How right he was. I'm hoping that he has a solution that doesn't make me look like an extra from Pirates of the Caribbean.
PICC Your Battles: Every night, George flushes out the PICC (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) line with Heperan to clean out the line and prevent the blood from clotting. When he presses down on the Heperan vial and meets resistance, we know that the line is clogged. The last time this happened, a nurse had to remove the old tubing and insert a new PICC line in the opposite arm. This time, I went to the emergency center at CoH, where the nurses inserted a special "PICC Drano" to successfully unclog the line.
Letting Go: We were looking forward to Cindy's graduation from Arroyo Pacific Academy on May 24, but, as of today, we aren't sure if she'll be donning the cap and gown. She has failed to complete her economics homework, a requirement for graduation, and has until the end of the day today to turn in her many missing assignments. I'll keep you posted on the outcome. Needless to say, this has produced considerable stress, anger and disappointment, but I'm working on letting go. Easier said than done.
And, in case you're concerned that I've violated my daughter's privacy by making this information public, let me share a story that highlights the true nature of an 18-year-old who is unfazed by her actions. Her primary concern is that I not blog about the details of her recent visit to the dermatologist's office. (Mum's the word.)
Shower Power: I've also been busy planning a June baby shower for my future "god baby," due in July. Unlike other stressful events in my life, this one is a source of great joy.