Valentines Trees and Mouth Sores . . .

Nothing too exciting to report these days, which is not always a bad thing; hence, the photo of our Valentine's Tree. I think I mentioned it in an earlier blog, that we've decided to keep the tree up and decorate it as the holidays come and go. We both love the soft glow it casts through the living room, whether it's at 5 in the morning or 11:30 at night. I'll take it down when this is all behind us, but right now, it's comforting, peaceful, to sit in its light. It's out on the screened deck, so I can see it from many corners of the house—when I'm at the sink in the living room, by the patio door in the bedroom . . . Already started on my St Patty's decoration collection. That Dollar Tree is the best invention. Ever.

It's still a good week out till Bob's next date with Chemo, but as it's been a few days since either of us has made an appearance here, he asked if I'd post an entry, to appease his adoring fans, as he was not up to it. Just tired, is all. So here I sit, doing what I do best—multitasking. Got the laptop on my lap, The Hangover playing on the ol telly-vision, and a book of Sudoku (shout-out to Tia for that idea! LOVE that game, even though by that admission, I've officially, publicly, turned into an old lady) tucked between my leg and the arm of the recliner (for when I lose writing inspiration and need a dose of linear mind exercises—to break up the jam and get the creative juices going again), and Rocco shoving toys at me, trying to engage me in a rousing game of tug-o-war. According to a study by some brainiacs at Stanford University, however, multitasking individuals actually accomplish less than their single-focused counterparts . . . pfffft!! I say! What do they know? They should come hang out with me for an afternoon, see just how much I accomplish in my life, given my astounding multi-tasking abilities . . . mmmm . . . . on second thought, nevermind. Anyhow, I digress . . .

The past week has been lots of waiting around punctuated by bouts of nothing much going on. After the first round of chemo, Bob was told to hold tight for three weeks till round two, which will be in about a week. Barring that 5 day stint in the hospital at the beginning of chemo, due to severe side effects, Bob has been doing pretty well this week, all things considered. He's been up and at 'em more than I've seen him up and at 'em in a very long time. He's been able to walk around the house, doing a little cooking and cleaning as he feels up to it; he even went outside and pushed some snow around on the driveway the other day (one more example of how different we are, just in case no one has picked up on that yet. My snow removal method of choice would be to drive over it till it was all packed down. Bob'd be out there as soon as the snow started falling, maintaining a constant vigil to keep the driveway free and clear. Man vs. snowflake).

He has a followup appointment with his oncologist at the U this coming Thursday; don't remember what that one is about for sure—probably to see how things are going with this first round, and to prep him for the next. He has had issues with mouth sores; started out more of an irritant than anything but they've now has morphed into a real pain in the ass. Or mouth, as it is. Eating oatmeal this morning, of all things mild and mushy, just wasn't happening. I called the on-call oncologist (say that out loud three times) and explained his situation. She asked when Bob had had chemo and if it was his first round. About two weeks ago, was my first answer, and yes, was the second. She said that he's about on schedule, that mouth sores tend to get ugly around week two, and that the first round is usually the toughest. She suggested several things to keep it tolerable—rinse more frequently with the Magic Mouthwash especially before eating, to also rinse with a solution of salt, baking soda and water, and above all, keep hydrated, even if he can't eat much. . .

It's so hard for him, because right now, he does have an appetite—the stomach is willing but the mouth is weak . . . he really wants to eat, because so many things look good to him, but very little is able to pass thorough his mouth without causing serious discomfort. He showed me his mouth today (at the request of the doctor, not because I asked . . . he'd still like to post photos sometime. I think the ones on his lower lip look like the chain of Hawaiian islands . . . ) He can still tolerate ice cream, yogurt, grapes, canned peaches, Ensure, soft cheese—like his new fav, Colby! This, coming from a man who tries to tell me cheese that smells like a dirty jock strap is a good thing . . .

Again, I'm helpless in this situation as I try my darnedest to come up with soft, tasty things that are easy on the mouth. We're continually surprised at the limited number of things he can eat. Even mashed potatoes have been tough, as are cooked veggies (especially cooked onions and avocados—something in those soft really irritate his mouth) and certain fruits. Try little bits of this and that. I've given up on making big meals right now, as much just goes to waste.

Once again, it's late and the lids are drooping . . . maybe one of us will check in tomorrow, since we've been kind of slacking. Sweet dreams, all!

LOVE!