3 down (almost)

Yesterday’s tenuous start, ended well with a pseudo surprise party prepared by my Mom, Sharon and Anne. Of course the men folk came too, like a horse follows the feed wagon. Wilson shocked everyone and flattered me, by calling out and bounding into my lap as he entered the room. He did as well as any toddler could be expected as I understand his desire to pull on Jamie’s tubes and press the IV pump button.

Last night’s entrée was Vietnamese sandwiches from the famed Seattle Deli, along egg rolls and spring rolls and other unidentified but tasty treats. For dessert we baited Jamie to the basement cafeteria with the most flamboyant and delicious cupcakes from Trophy in Wallingford. Of course there was a backup carrot cake as well, just to ensure that there was enough for the whole hospital.

There were leftover cupcakes as well, and after Jamie selected her favorites to be saved for later, I offered the balance to a couple sitting off in the corner of the dinning area. She was a striking woman with a heavy colonial Africa accent while he was a very dorky, white wall haircut, heavy cell phone user who I had earlier encountered in the family lounge with their stroller bound child. As I offered the cupcakes, he still jabbering on the phone, she took control of the box, slapping his hand and saying none for him. At first I thought her actions jovial, but her stare quickly confirmed her conviction. As I backed away saying “that is between you two”, she began to indulge herself in the first cupcake with a very eerie smile.

I donated the carrot cake to a group best described as a clan which has been encamped in the 7SE lobby since our arrival. Mothers, sons, husbands, grandmothers and infants all mingling about in a mass of toys, Doritos and cellular phones. The most junior of the tribe is confined to a baby walker and literally spends hours banging on some sort of flashing, Old MacDonald blaring toy, while the men antagonize the older children and the mothers holler at both of them. They are sort of a NASCAR sort of crowd, baseball caps, goatees and a few tattoos.

When I offered the cake to them, one of the men earnestly thanked me and vigorously shook my hand. The matriarch was equally grateful and informed me that I was only looking at a fraction of their group and that the entire portion would be rapidly dispersed and devoured.

When I was awoke at midnight by night shift nurse when she came in to do her start of shift stats and medication, I slipped grumpily out of the room to hydrate a cup-o-noodles I purchased earlier from the late night snack cart. When I passed through the lobby, the group was still there, a sea of white hospital linen lumps, sprawled out on all available chairs, couches and for the lower ranking members, the floor. A few of the men were conspicuous by their absence, but latter encountered in the stair, probably returning from their routine jaunts to the smoking area.

Although I have mocked both these groups, in writing and in spoken word, such comments are mostly in jest. Albeit outwardly annoying, I have spent enough time here at 7SE to know their purpose. Someone in their family is dying. You can readily tell the difference between the groups here to celebrate like our guests yesterday and those here to witness death. Those here to celebrate are upbeat, organized and come bearing balloons, gifts and favorite foods.

The death watch is a more ad hoc gathering, engaged in an instinctual self deprivation with no bearing in time or space. Change the costume, language and geography and this ritual would probably be the same in any part of the world. Death as one of the most basic components of the cycle of life draws people together in a primalistic way that transcends individual character.

I am eternally grateful to still be part of the healing group. During Dr. Goff’s early morning rounds we discussed several subjects including Jamie’s interest in a Stanford study on preventing re occurrence of ovarian cancer (see the link on Jamie’s prior post). Dr. Goff in her open minded way gave us good instruction on how to find out more about this study and others, but also cautioned us to make sure Jamie qualified as many require that you currently have cancer or your cancer is reoccurring. She was quite emphatic that Jamie is considered in remission based on her normal CA-125 levels and CAT scans results.

Dr. Goff also emphasized that Jamie’s current IP regiment is considered a “bonus” and that she has fulfilled the standard treatment protocol. Not meaning to diminish the value of the treatment, she just wanted to re assure Jamie that the six sessions were an ideal do objective and that if the side effects became unbearable, she could opt out without remorse. This is not a new subject for Jamie and me, but as usual she faces the challenge with strength and resolve to do them all.

Today is progressing well, as Christie has returned to be our chemo. Making up for lost time with her charm and professional efficiency, I now write as we are in the timed flipping phase, Jamie once again taken on a supertanker worth of fluid to her abdomen. As I tilt the bed first to the head down position, Jamie once again pushes herself further and tauntingly instructs me to keep going past her original limit of ten to the bed’s full limit of twelve degrees inclination.

Tonight’s after party is being catered by the Lucero’s at our favorite post chemo hangout, the Silver Cloud University District. As we continually push the hotel staff’s patience I only hope that the leftovers from Vince’s cooking will be enough to bribe them as our party size will nearly double and is now demanding use of the pool. Poor Madeline has been subjected to watching other children frolic in the pool from the confines of the adjacent dining area. Tonight we will go all out, justifying our behavior because we have stayed at the hotel many times, but never utilized the pool.