readying for round 6
I missed my grandmother’s memorial service this weekend.
I wanted to go—in fact I scheduled all my chemotherapy infusions around the idea of going. My oncologist organized it so the date of the memorial was as far from an infusion as it’s possible to get, so that I would be in the best health to travel.
Unfortunately my neutrophil and white blood cell counts have remained consistently low for the past several weeks. Even with the growth factor shots. While this hasn’t seemed to interfere with my health overall, it does mean I’m immunocompromised. The stakes for getting sick on this trip felt high for me: If I’m sick, I have to delay chemo.
I am very committed to being done with chemo. ASAP.
And there does seem to be some poetry in having my last infusion on my birthday. Call me superstitious. You will be correct.
Even when my immune system is firing on all the proper cylinders, I typically get sick when I travel. I’m a hothouse flower, and require a very specific environment in order to thrive.1
There are no direct flights from Montana to Maryland, so I was looking at a total of four planes and six airport sojourns for the weekend. The closer I got, the more out of reach the trip felt. My infusion side effects seem to be lasting longer with each cycle. Where before I would be mostly over the cold sensitivity after five or six days, I’m now still experiencing it (albeit in milder form), two weeks out.
In the end, Luke took Violet to represent us, and I stayed home with Sylvie. I’m sad I wasn’t able to be there.
One more thing that cancer has taken from me.
But in exchange I got a solo weekend with my beautiful baby, who is growing and changing at an astonishing rate every day. She counted to fourteen this weekend, and I know this is likely just memorization and not some display of exceptional numeracy but….she won’t be two until late October, so if someone wants to call Mensa on her behalf you have my permission.
I have been extremely spoiled on the childcare front these past months; I had started to forget how long and tedious the days alone with a toddler can be. Especially if you’re extremely low energy, are having regular painful poops with an asshole that’s on fire, and are mildly panicking about your next round of chemotherapy.
And no offense to toddlers, but can’t we please debate the existence of the Epstein files or the implications of our national trade policy in between endless repetitions of Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star?
Like, toddlers…read a book. Gosh.
But for goodness’s sake not Harold and the Purple Crayon for the nineteenth time in a row.
What I’m doing
I’m mostly kidding about the toddler shade. Sylvie is good company, and remarkably independent in her play (brag brag brag), so I was able to honor my grandmother’s memory with some watercolor painting while Sylvie sent a ball down a ramp on repeat for an hour. I have nothing like Rosemary’s talent, but I persist!
I’m almost done knitting my latest sweater—I’ve been stuck on the final cuff for a few days now, I think because I don’t want to finish. Then I’ll have to start a new project, and this yarn has been so decadent!
Also it’s extremely hot and this sweater is wool and cashmere, so I don’t actually want to try it on.
I’ve been needlepointing some sachets that will eventually hold dried lavender. The first one I made has a spelling error.2 I decided not to un-pick the stitches because there’s something charming about a needlepoint typo, and it tickles me. I’m thinking if the sachets turn out well they’ll make nice hostess gifts or something to add to a care package.
The mint in my garden is going crazy so I’ve been harvesting and drying it to use for tea. We’ve also gotten a ton of peas, and three delicious strawberries that Sylvie very much enjoyed. (More, more? she asked over and over when they were gone, bashing her fists together. Regrettably her frantic sign language had no impact on the crop yield.)
What I’m eating
I think I’ve bragged previously about my superlative sourdough pizza crust. I made one this weekend with beets, goat cheese, arugula, and tomatoes and it has been delicious. I’m enjoying the last of the leftovers now.
What I’m reading
I’m reading The Sirens by Emilia Hart. I’m not too far into it, but enjoying it so far. It’s set in Australia with interwoven contemporary and historical narratives. In the early 1800s, two Irish sisters with a strange relationship to water are sent on a prison ship to Australia. In the present: two sisters with a mysterious water allergy; a string of unsolved disappearances. The younger sister flees a crime scene to ask her older sister for answers, but instead finds an empty house and vivid paintings of scenes from her own dreams.
Hart’s previous novel, Weyward, was one of my favorite books last year. The kind of book that makes me jealous like dang, why didn’t I write that. Magical and witchy but also very human.
What I’m watching
Sirens on Netflix. Are you sensing a theme?
I’m finding it very compelling and well acted, with some humor and surprises mixed in.
Bonus Content
On the subject of sirens—well, sort of…
It’s very tangential. But mythical sea creatures feels like a clear enough through-line.
During bath time, Violet and I sometimes compose stories. She usually wants one about a mermaid. We’ll roll a die to influence the plot of the story, D&D style.
The problem with Violet as a collaborator, though, is that she hates conflict or tension in the stories. Any obstacle must instantly be overcome. I’ve tried explaining why this doesn’t make for a compelling narrative, but alas. Usually the mermaids end up finding treasure and going to a party.
Anyway, I was inspired by one of these stories (not a mermaid one, a rarity) and started writing it up with the thought of illustrating it and binding it as a Christmas present for my daughters.
Here’s Chapter 1 as some bonus content for my wonderful and generous paid subscribers. Would love to know what you think, or whether this kind of content is welcome.
Thrive is definitely overstating what I’m doing, but whatever
Lavander, lol. Some editor I am.