A Broken Crow

guess who's finally home?
words cannot express it. it's just so much better. you're still there when i go to sleep now. you're still there when i wake up. you're not surrounded by machines and nurses and old people.

(and i would see them passing in the halls and want them to have nothing to do with you and nothing in common with you, but i knew it wasn't true. it's rare that i can't think my way out of a situation i don't like. it's scary.)

there are still popsicles, though. there will always be popsicles if i can help it.

yesterday i learned more words about you. words that i love hearing and repeating, like "low risk for reoccurance" for example. all of the spinal fluid and bone marrow samples are so far negative. hearing that was like being slowly submerged into warm water. thick and murky and soft. that clamp that persists on the back of my neck let up for the first time in two weeks. i didn't feel that catch in my breath, like there wasn't enough air in the room.

(i'm almost ready to start thinking about myself again. because i guess i still exist too, even when all the love and concern and hard work ahead swallows me up. i bought myself presents on saturday. that has to count for something.)

to the rest of you: i forsee iain's triumphant return to the world of blogging. iain plus cancer equals jokes you never thought you'd laugh at. hold onto your hats.

to you: i love you so much i might burst. then where would we be?

we had a nice weekend, you and i. leading up to this. it all begins today. the doctors will come to your room and hover over your bed for only a few minutes. it will happen so fast. it will look so small. so unimportant.

i'm not brave like you. i'm not okay with this. any of this. i wake up alone and i'm furious that the sun still shines.

today was one of those days that i'll remember and hold onto when the bad days become more frequent. one of those laughing, talking, card-playing, mythbusters-watching, three-square-meals-plus-snacks kind of days. you are so positive and so strong. i keep forgetting that when you had all those insane procedures done to you on thursday, you still had that nasty chest tube in. you, sir, are one tough motherfucker.

you also really really love lime popsicles and that's awesome.

other awesome things:

-the chest tube is out. officially, as of friday afternoon. thank. fuck. this means less attachment to heavy boxes and more mobility and more happy iain.

-chemo starts monday. he has been given the weekend to rest and eat well and mentally prepare for everything coming his way.

-preliminary (though not official or conclusive) results have indicated normal cells in the spinal fluid, so now we're just waiting on the bone marrow biopsy. this could be very good news. i have my fingers crossed.



i think friday night sleepovers are going to be a tradition until you're back home and doing treatments as an out-patient. it's so nice to wake up and have breakfast together, even if it is in the hospital.

we keep each other positive and smiling. it's what we do. it's all we can do sometimes. the chemo fights the cancer. you fight the chemo. i know you can do it.

i think you should write a song for me. what rhymes with lymphoma?

god i love you.

iain had a long, hard day today.
he had samples of bone marrow and spinal fluid taken, and also a hickman line put in place. (kind of a semi-permanent IV through the chest, so that he doesn't need to have any more needles throughout his treatment). he also had some mild chemotherapy during the spinal tap.

by the end of it all, he was very very tired.

serious chemo should be starting tomorrow, and the chest-drainy tube should be coming out too. and so the battle begins.

we still plan to have "us time" tomorrow night. we're going to watch buffy and eat popsicles. i'm also spending the night with him in the hospital tomorrow, on a lovely cot that i can roll right into his room. swoooon for sleepovers.

this weekend is a big one, so everyone send good thoughts his way.

two things to remember from now on:

1)no more surprise visits. things are changing and he may not always feel up to having company. please please please call ahead.

2)if you are sick, or have been around anyone who has been sick recently, you absolutely CANNOT visit. the chemo will hurt his immune system within a week.

love love love love love for iain.

please do not take this the wrong way.
all the love and support is amazing and iain couldn't appreciate it more.
but the stream of visitors has been non-stop and it's kind of exhausting.

he still needs some space and some privacy and some time to relax without talking about his condition. maybe it's time to calm down and call ahead.

(note:) tomorrow, the doctors are taking bone marrow and spinal fluid samples for testing. iain may be in some pain afterwards, so if you plan to visit, please call ahead and see if he's up for it.
(note:) on friday, iain and i are having a hospital movie-date and some much-needed alone time. please do not visit on friday.

i know you all love him and mean well, but it's been kind of overwhelming for him.

i'm sorry if this offends anyone.

iain is still in the hospital, at the summer street site. he's feeling very well and his attitude is excellent. his room is rdiculously filled with cards and presents, it's been wonderful and overwhelming. the chest tube is still in place, but should be gone soon. he may undergo a procedure called pleurodesis to stop the fluid from collecting between his lung and ribcage, but it's nothing to be concerned about.

the biopsy results have confirmed that he does have a form of lymphoma, but it is treatable and he's ready for whatever they throw at him. the doctors feel that he probably doesn't require another biopsy, so he should be moving down the the VG site soon and starting chemotherapy.

if all goes well, he should be home soon and focusing on getting better.

(and i know you're going to get better, because i love you and that's just the way it is.)

my god you are funny when injected with narcotics.
when the tube comes out, will you miss it?

another big day tomorrow: gallium scan. where are you feeling radioactive today? talks with thoraxic surgeons about another potential biopsy (please please no). maybe we'll play crazy eights later and teach winston some rad tricks.

what do you think is really underneath the pirate's eyepatch?
a rubie.
nononono. one of those chocolate twoonies.

i'm thinking of you. i love you. i'm snuggling your blue sweater.

the good news: some blood work has come back. they were looking for a cancer-related germ and it came back negative. this doesn't rule out lymphoma, but it's not bad news i guess.

the bad news: they may have to do a second biopsy, as the first sample seems "insufficient for lymphomic study". whatever that means.

we'll get through it, babe. no matter what.

thanks for making me laugh today. (stop playing with your tube, monkey!)
extreme sport popsicles. (now with electrolytes!)
thanks for the drug-induced chair dances.
thanks for asking how i am the second i walk through the door.
(and all the smiles and holding hands and happiness you still feel.)
thanks for still being you (who i love so much) through all of this.

i blame the hospital food, you know.
can you smell the oregano?

everyday i learn new words to use in context with you. stinoscopy. thoraxic. pleural space. knowledge gives me something to stand on when everything else feels like it's sinking.

yesterday was so hard, but today was so nice. (for those not in the know, the biopsy was performed and went well.) you all lovey and full of drugs. me perched at the end of the bed, rubbing your feet. there aren't words to describe how proud i am of you already.

i love that you're still making me laugh. gallium man. are you feeling radioactive yet? no, but i'm itchy.

back at work for the first time since monday. it's strange. i'm not leaving the hospital behind in that building. everyone knows, so it's the iain report all day long, but i can handle it. on a funny note, i made a fucking killing in tips today. what goes through people's minds? "oh, well, her boyfriend has cancer so let's tip her that extra quarter today." really, it's hilarious.

another big day looms tomorrow, but not so much for you. what a cruel and unusual context in which to meet someone's family for the first time.

another day tackled. i hope you're sleeping well.

time doesn't exist inside of us. inside of this.
if i can just lie next to you. feel your hand slip between my knees.
buffy on the tube. winston sitting vigil.

we were made strong enough to do this.

one of these days, it's all going to be real.
and scary.
for the first time in my life, i know what scary is.

i love you.
words aren't enough, but they're all i have.
i love you.
i love you.

summers out here. you can taste dusk in the air, rolling around your mouth like a hard candy. i still bite my tongue when i think about the way things happened.

black sheep. underdog. who's your angel, baby?

i don't think i'll ever get it back the way it was. just then. just for a second. pull your fingers through my hair again and i'll seem calm while my heart is screaming.

just for a second.

i danced all day.
just thinking.
everything is still so exciting.
every single nerve brought to the surface.

(but outside, i can't shrug it all off. i can't shrug it all off all the time, even though i try so hard that it hurts. breathing heavy and squeezing my eyes shut.)

i've got soul but i'm not a soldier
i've got soul but i'm not a soldier

so here's the deal.
this sort of snuck up on me. draped a greasy palm over my eyes and mouth.
i keep trying to blast it out of my brain with music, but it always knows the steps.
(oh hello. i thought we were done. last summer. first year. grade eleven.)

(i got so bored today i burnt my hand on purpose. i'm trying to condition it to ridiculous temperatures. this will be my summer goal.)

i feel like i've been mean.
i feel like it shows on my face.
i'm going to reach up to scratch my nose and i'll be horribly disfigured.
but it's ok, because i'll know why and i'll deserve it.

all these cuts. all these ways i can ruin it all.
something switched me into mega self-destruction mode.

watch out.

this weekend was such a mix. a cocktail of awesome and scary.
thursday was one of those times i'll remember. the happiest i've ever felt, but now i have the urge to overthink it. do all those things still count? i guess i don't care. put some plastic in my mouth and i'll be happy. (in the back, behind my teeth on the left side is raw and swollen. i don't know how i managed it.)

i'm glad we talked. i think it's funny how quickly we said 'fuck all that awkwardness, let's be friends instead'. nothing can come between ursula udders and big ethel...except a runaway vagina perhaps? (he has no right to be that hard!) you can press your head into my shoulder and i'll talk too fast for three hours that seems like ten minutes. ha. soft knees and shaky eyes.

and you. what's with the phone, no-phone?
figures. the weekend i try to call you repeatedly is the one that i can't reach you.
i have things to say, dammit.

and if i only look through the one part of the glass that isn't dirty. caked. covered by shabby fabric. i'll be fine.

(in the back of my mind are images of me, doll-eyed, wandering around the arena in the rain at five-thirty in the morning. i must have been a fucking sight.)

you're a cool chick and that leather is boss.