Best Medicine Ever

Today is my husband’s birthday.  He’s 56 today.  Happy Birthday Bob!!!  Love you bunches!

Yesterday, my step-daughter Jess, her husband TJ and their two little girls came up for a visit.  And it was the best medicine I could have asked for!

Braelyn is growing.  I can’t believe she is 4 years old already.  Where has the time gone?  Just yesterday, she was this tiny little 7 pound bundle that slept in the crook of my neck.  Today, she’s a wired, active, happy, ACTIVE 4-year-old, who was excited to see “Grammies’ Bald Head.”

She’s playing with her Leap Pad – she’s more tech savvy at 4 than I am at 40.

She was a little put off at first with my appearance, but eventually, she warmed up.  It took me wearing my big pink fuzzy monster slippers for it to happen, but when it did, it sure did.  She was very curious about my head, so I finally asked her if she wanted to touch it.  At first, she said no, but within about 30 seconds, her little hand reached up to rub my head.  Quoth Brae, “It’s prickly.”  That is because my hair is starting to grow back in (just in time for another round of chemo Monday).

Braelyn became quite the cuddle bug with me after that.  She climbed on me, and wanted to play with my Kindle, and gave me all kinds of snuggles.

Lani got lots of snuggles too.  Lani will be my little time gauge – she was born just a couple weeks before my surgery – weighing in at 7lbs 12 oz.  Now, at just over two months old, she’s weighing in at 13 pounds.  And cute – I mean, c’mon…look at this kid!

The cute is blinding, no?

And her Grampies is in love too!

Bob is never really sure what to do with a baby before they can walk or cheer on the football teams.

This visit yesterday with my family was wonderful.  It wore me out, but it was wonderful.  I adore those little girls.

In other news, I go for my last chemo in this cycle on Monday.  Then back to work in two weeks.  When I go back to work, I’ll start my radiation, and then finish up with three more cycles of chemo (and internal radiation).  The reading I was doing the other night states that studies show women with aggressive endometrial cancer (mine was) have up to an 80% chance of not getting the cancer again after going through sandwich therapy.  I’m on board, but dreading Monday.  Chemo and I are not friends.  I feel like crap afterwards for an entire week.  But if it means I can be a survivor, then bring on the crap.


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