Round 4 or 6 (but who's counting?)

We are back in hospital after an amazing week at home. Some very much needed R&R occurred and I feel like I can take on anything. Apparently, Eleanor does as well. She was quite feisty in the day clinic today, and balked at all the nurses attempts to get her blood pressure or temperature. She used to be really agreeable for that kind of stuff, but after a week off, she is very direct and quick to express her annoyance! She handled her doxorubicin and etoposide like a baby (meaning she handled it like a fucking superstar - there is no such thing as "just a baby" in our world) and is sleeping peacefully. Our transition back to institutionalized life has been nothing short of amazing. Everything went smoothly and stress free.

 On the ferry

Baby girl looked pretty cool in her Chuck Taylor's today. It was also the first day she was willing to bear weight on her legs. I don't know if the two are related, but it was shocking nonetheless!

Jen came by for dinner, which was lovely. We see each other virtually everyday, but because she was away for a week, and then I was away for a week, it feels like we haven't seen each other in ages. She brought me back my notebook that I bought just before the baby was born so I could record any poignant moments in it. I wrote Eleanor's birth story, and then didn't write again for six weeks, and then one more time to record all her symptoms the day we went into hospital. I gave it to Jen to keep track of all our meetings during those first chaotic weeks, and then promptly forgot about it. She returned it to me tonight, and it is so weird to see everything in writing. It has become a living, breathing document of her life and her condition, but not intentionally. I suppose this blog is as well, but there is something about the written word; it shows so much emotion and tension. Just the way the words are scrawled across the page gives you a glimpse into how Jen or I was feeling in that moment. There are words capitalized and emphatically surrounded by asterisks, like  the phrase, "IT IS SURMOUNTABLE", and you can feel the joy when small victories are achieved: "Bone scan negative!" It's such a cool thing to have all of it in one book that also shares her birth story. I can't bring myself to read that just yet. It took me months to get over it, and to stop marvelling, "That happened. That really happened!" and I don't want to start that all over again.

I think my favourite part of it (and the reason I bought it) is the quote on the front cover:

She's turning her life into something sacred: Each breath is a new birth. Each moment, a new chance. She bows her head, gathers her dreams from a pure, deep stream and stretches her arms towards the sky.

Pretty, no? Or maybe it's just a literary interpretation of me doodling hearts and unicorns jumping over the moon in my proverbial notebook of life. Yup. I'm feeling that good.