Hello, Kitty!

A few days before my second chemo session, a package arrived from my granddaughters. Inside, a Build-a-Bear kitty, dressed in pajamas, along with a note, signed by 9-year-old Chloe and 7-year-old Livy. Kitty, named "Kisses", was to accompany me to my treatments. In the note, Livy told me to press its right paw. And, of course, I did. I was rewarded by their sweet voices saying "We love you, Grandma Sandi!"

The girls' Grandpa Jim on their mother's side had successfully battled Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma the year before, so Chloe and Livy were all too familiar with cancer and chemo treatments, but also, fortunately, aware that there are happy endings.

So "Kisses" shared my recliner when I went for my second chemo session, three weeks down the road from my first session. Jeff took a picture of me in my bobbly black hat, and chemo tubing, and Kisses in her pajamas so that we could show the girls. Once again, no adverse reactions. No warm rush, no whistling in the ears. Nothing. At least for me. Kisses seemed to handle it fine as well.

Again, I took the next day off of work, just in case I might experience side effects. But, just like the first time, I was fine.

I had really been struggling with my right knee in the last week preceding my second chemo session. Every time I stood up in my office, I'd have to hang onto my desk before taking a step because that right knee wanted to give out underneath me. I was limping noticeably and feeling like I was turning into a human junkyard. I finally got relief when I started my pre-chemo steroids, the Dexamethason. Immediate relief -- no limping, no pain. It was amazing.

I asked Dr. B. if, after the 4-steroid pills-a-day regimen before, during and day after chemo, I could continue taking just one steroid pill a day until I was through with chemo and could get the knee attended to. She agreed I could try that.

It worked. I knew the knee was still compromised. I knew it was not cured, but I couldn't feel its pain. Still a junkyard, but you could kick my tires now and not bring me down. You'd better be able to run away fast afterward, however, because, according to Jeff, those steroids were making me cranky!