She told me that over the weekend, she realized about 7:00 p.m. that she hadn't eaten anything, so she got up and had a little "nosh" :) and then realized she needed to rinse her mouth. The Biotene must have been in the other bathroom, so she grabbed the Scope and gave 'er a rinse.....and then realized she probably shouldn't have done that. Didn't even think about the level of alcohol in the ol' Scope - or that even though she hadn't felt anything going on in her mouth yet, that those cells are a-changing. She said it burned. Really badly. I can't remember what analogy she used, but I'm guessing it was something like drinking lit rocket fuel. Poor girl. Bet she doesn't do THAT again! Or if she does, then we'll know that she's loco en la cabeza from the chemo and we'll have to lock up all the Scope in the house! hahaha okay, sad attempt at Spanish and humor there. I try.
Despite the mouth soreness - and one bout of painting the toilet (sorry, ma) which was quickly remedied by throwing down some Immodium - she's trucking along like a Rolling Stone (sounds good, even though I'm not really sure what a Rolling Stone trucking along REALLY means...?). Every time I call her she's cleaning, or cooking, or she's been shopping for Christmas, or decorating for Christmas, or wrapping presents, having lunch with people. I'm so glad that she's doing so well. I can't tell you how much I worried that she was going to have the side effects so often portrayed on television and the movies. And, as she and I have discussed, maybe this will be the only round where she's feeling this good. Maybe not. But if it is, we're grateful for one round that doesn't cause her any more discomfort than absolutely possible. We'll take it.
As we've also discussed, when venturing into the unknown, it's amazing how badly you can psych yourself out - because you have NO idea what the <BLEEP!> to expect. Even when told what it's like for someone else, it still never really prepares you for the ACTUAL happening (like, say, childbirth). And isn't it odd how we always seem to run through all of the worst case scenarios, rather than thinking about how well things might go first? (I remember telling mom when I was in labor with Alec that I changed my mind and didn't want to do it. Hahaha) Maybe that's just me.
I think initially with this whole cancer-schmancer situation, I really didn't have time to think about any of the scenarios because I was just scrambling trying to make sense of what the <BLEEP!> was going on. Then, worst case scenarios popped up for about a minute until I made mom regurgitate what the doctor had told her (and dad too. I solicit info from both of them, not knowing I've talked to the other to see how closely the information jives). Now that I've edumacated myself a little bit by reading about treatment, the drugs, side effects, things to do to help (which I keep getting yelled at about, by the way *sticking my tongue out at my mom*), and hearing what Dr. G has discussed with my mom and dad, I'm grateful to say that I'm calm. And that largely has to do with the fact that mom is being calm about it. I guess the whole "don't panic until you need to panic" logic has kind of set in - and that's how we are taking this. Things are going to be fine once mom gets through treatment and surgery - and that's the only way we are really looking at this right now. Because we have no reason to look at it any other way. It is what it is. And it isn't what it isn't.
Don't sweat the small stuff people. Accentuate the positive. See the glass half-full. Celebrate the little things. Be the change you want to see. I've run out of catchy cliches..... but.... A positive attitude can do wonders for pretty much any situation. Except, maybe, when you stub a toe, crack your "funny bone," or use Scope on a chemo ravaged tongue....THAT, I'm afraid, just has to wear off. ;)