34. Day 3 Chemo Over, all Good, We're Going out for Pasta and Supplies

Кто людей веселит, за того весь свет стоит.

People never can resist those who make them laugh.

Jamie, Sue and I are heading out with our various neck tubes, in search of a pasta place since who knows when we'll get together again. I'll be moving into isolation soon. Sue's having stemmies drawn tomorrow. Jamie's making his. You have to grab time with people you enjoy whenever you can.  

I wanted this post to be very light. I've had time to think about how important MY people are to me. And how lucky I am to have them in my very rich full life. Jack and my kids are awesome in their support. Too much to note! And not a bit of it lost in translation. Janice's daily emails - make me feel I'm there at home visiting. It's been a nice new way to connect.  Jim's lists of things I should translate into Russian, all made me laugh. 

And then today one of the nurses saved me from certain disgrace by pointing out I had toilet paper hanging off the backside of my pjs.  We laughed and laughed - she in Russian and I in English. 

I wanted to thank the truly lovely people I have met through my journey here and through having CIDP. And to acknowledge the little pleasures of shared laughter, love and happiness that is tremendously important in healing, no matter what it is you're up against.  

I have a steady stream of cards to open from my CIDP-HSCT friend, Linda, whose HSCT was so much harder than mine, I still can't open the ones that are for "The Really Bad Chemo Day", etc. but I love her for having thought of me in the ways she did.  And Evelyn is still searching for my perfect 1.5" heeled Sesto Meucci shoes, bless her!  And Greer made me a great saber and scabbard, but I didn't dare bring it through TSA. 

And I am shaving my head on Wednesday mostly so I can begin to show off the darling hand knitted hats from Janice, Robin, Cheryl, and Linda (she really spoiled me), and others.  I have far too many acts of kindness and generosity - my cup runneth over.  And that is not the steroids speaking. 

I know my Dad is worrying (needlessly) and I even know that is a form of love, deep and true. I worry back. We have this agreement made over long lifetimes. He's nearly 93, tough and strong, hauling away loads of limbs after tree trimming (isn't the point to have the tree trimmers haul?) and I know he's carefully NOT fishing the holes in the creek he knows he'll save for me for summer. He's like that. Little things.

I have only to look at this photo to smell those star lilies and roses that cheered me on the week ahead of my journey here. And those that are coming in in emails and posts - taken with me in mind. These things really touch my heart. To be loved is healing. To be cared about is healthy. To be treasured, as I treasure all of these many many people (and truly a hundred more I should mention) is truly life-affirming. Thank you all. And the more of you who can make me laugh, the better!  ; )

Tomorrow I'll write something important about HSCT and packing, or something.

But today, just "Thanks!"

PS   Just also downloaded a private concert on violin (Mars) and piano (Dagmar) that thrill me no end. These are my granddaughters, too, and I love them so. Thank you, both, from the bottom of Grandma Susan's old heart!  You two totally ROCK!