There is thunder rumbling outside and the sky is turning dark. There is a storm brewing out there, and that is just fine with me.
A Friday night thunderstorm is the perfect way to end this week.
Our dryer broke. All the little lights come on, but when I push the start button, the dumb thing goes "beep beep." Every. Single. Time. "Beep beep." "Beep beep." "BEEP BEEP." My techno-nerd hubby used the Google and got some ideas. He ordered a new part, which was delivered today. So far, no luck. "Beep beep."
In the meantime....it's no secret that I detest laundry even when all the machines are working. You can only imagine the joy it has been to drape each individual sock, towel, and little-boy undie over the shower, tub, trampoline, swing, fireplace, and finally, my friend Krystal's drying rack. If you see us out and about and we look a little wrinkled and/or crusty, you'll know why.
The location for the clinical trial has been narrowed down for me because nothing else is available. Looks like I will be traveling to Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain! The first step is to meet with the trial doctor to discuss my history and make a final decision about my eligibility to participate. That meeting will take place on Monday.
Although I fully realize that this clinical trial has the potential to be the hope that I have asked God for, I am having a hard time being cheerful about it. For one thing, I will endure a rigorous screening process made up of multiple tests that for some reason can not be all done in one trip to Oklahoma City. I do not understand this. For another thing, it is possible that I will go through the screening and randomization processes, only to be informed that I can not take the trial drug. "But here", they will say. "We would like to offer you some lovely Taxol as a consolation prize. 100% guaranteed to make your hair fall out! Tried and failed to cure cancer! Congratulations!" That would be neat-o.
By the way, in case that scenario should occur (and there is a 1 in 3 chance that it will), this is what I will do: WALK AWAY.
I am not doing chemotherapy again. 5 drugs in 3 years. I guess you can safely say that I am not chemo-compatible.
Here is another reason that I hate this week. This conversation happened:
Little Middle: What time will Mr. Dad be home?
Me: Around 5:30.
Little Middle: Can I call him and see what time he will get here?
Me: No! I just told you when he'll be here!
Little Middle: (making pouting face and crossing arms across chest)
Me: You sure are anxious for Daddy to get home. (Teasing) Why does he get to be the fun parent?
Little Middle: (Serious face) Because you're always sick.
Ugh. He said it the honest, this-is-what-I-really-think way that kids say stuff. He wasn't trying to be hurtful. Just real.
Then today, we had another big blow--one I'm not quite ready to write about, but you can believe me when I tell you that I deserved that glass of wine I drank at almost-5:00.
AND my darling cowboys ran off to their friends' house with my laptop and all of the leftover Chick-Fil-A ketchup and Buffalo sauce packets in their backpack. You know, for the monster movie they were making. Special effects...very, very special.
I hope it rains. I hope the heavens open wide and it pours down. I hope there is thunder and lightning to match my mood. I love a rainy night....but not a stormy life.