Today, Matt and I celebrate 13 years of wedded bliss. 13 years isn't that many in the scheme of life and especially in comparison to our role models, however we've certainly packed a lot into our 13 years. We've faced adversity several times and without fail it's made us stronger. But the past 13 years has had it's share of incredible times as well. I think about our relationship, and our love, and while we are just your average, run of the mill couple... I feel extremely lucky and grateful. I know this love that I never knew could exist. Even though my life clearly isn't perfect now, I have experienced something that so many people only dream of. I know with 1000% certainty what it's like to be truly, deeply loved. And I know what it's like to truly, deeply love someone with my whole heart. (Not counting my children of course). In fact, a few weeks ago I was having a random conversation with Reagan. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it at first. Until she said that when she was older she wanted her marriage to be like ours, and that she wanted to be "in love" with her husband after being married "forever like daddy and you are." I chalk that up to a huge success on our part.
13 has more significance this week than just our anniversary though. My dad, my other favorite guy, turns 73 on the 13th. He was born on Friday, October 13, 1944. According to Reagan, you can't get a more unlucky day than Friday the 13th in October. Well, for a smart girl, she is very wrong on this one. Because of the luck of Friday the 13th in October of 1944, I grew up not believing in that myth at all. In fact, 13 seems like a pretty LUCKY number if you ask me. (And my mom, and all of dad's family, etc.) My parents came down yesterday and we all went to dinner as an anniversary / birthday dinner. I was in pain. My back hurt a LOT. But it was nice to celebrate with two of my favorite guys.
Last week was quite the doozy. I thought I was having a really bad reaction to chemo. I couldn't get it together. I was crying a ridiculous amount, I couldn't stay awake, the nausea was off the hook, and Friday when I went in for chemo I couldn't stop shaking. The nurses were clearly nervous, which made me nervous. Chemo was called off and I was sent to the ER as a precaution. They said the blood work would come back faster if we went to the ER. Well, after two bags of saline, some ativan, and zofran, I was able to calm down a bit. Bloodwork all came back normal and I was released from the ER. Sunday night Dr. Adler called to check in on me. I mentioned how I stopped taking the MS Contin (morphine) that I had been taking from way back when I was in the hospital. Apparently that wasn't a smart choice. Apparently with drugs like that you are supposed to wean off of them, even though it was a very low dose. So Dr. Adler concluded that I was having withdrawal symptoms. Yikes.
The bloodwork in the ER did show that my hemoglobin has dropped down to 7.2. Dr. Adler has decided it's transfusion time. I can't fight it anymore. I am tired a lot. I get worn out walking short distances. I guess I will bite the bullet and hope that this boost of red blood cells will help me out. Matt and I go in tomorrow at 7 am and they said it will take 5-6 hours. I'm nervous and grossed out, but I'll do it.
I have renewed faith that I'm on the right track and all of these little blips are just us working out the kinks of treatment.
13 has more significance this week than just our anniversary though. My dad, my other favorite guy, turns 73 on the 13th. He was born on Friday, October 13, 1944. According to Reagan, you can't get a more unlucky day than Friday the 13th in October. Well, for a smart girl, she is very wrong on this one. Because of the luck of Friday the 13th in October of 1944, I grew up not believing in that myth at all. In fact, 13 seems like a pretty LUCKY number if you ask me. (And my mom, and all of dad's family, etc.) My parents came down yesterday and we all went to dinner as an anniversary / birthday dinner. I was in pain. My back hurt a LOT. But it was nice to celebrate with two of my favorite guys.
Last week was quite the doozy. I thought I was having a really bad reaction to chemo. I couldn't get it together. I was crying a ridiculous amount, I couldn't stay awake, the nausea was off the hook, and Friday when I went in for chemo I couldn't stop shaking. The nurses were clearly nervous, which made me nervous. Chemo was called off and I was sent to the ER as a precaution. They said the blood work would come back faster if we went to the ER. Well, after two bags of saline, some ativan, and zofran, I was able to calm down a bit. Bloodwork all came back normal and I was released from the ER. Sunday night Dr. Adler called to check in on me. I mentioned how I stopped taking the MS Contin (morphine) that I had been taking from way back when I was in the hospital. Apparently that wasn't a smart choice. Apparently with drugs like that you are supposed to wean off of them, even though it was a very low dose. So Dr. Adler concluded that I was having withdrawal symptoms. Yikes.
The bloodwork in the ER did show that my hemoglobin has dropped down to 7.2. Dr. Adler has decided it's transfusion time. I can't fight it anymore. I am tired a lot. I get worn out walking short distances. I guess I will bite the bullet and hope that this boost of red blood cells will help me out. Matt and I go in tomorrow at 7 am and they said it will take 5-6 hours. I'm nervous and grossed out, but I'll do it.
I have renewed faith that I'm on the right track and all of these little blips are just us working out the kinks of treatment.
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