No good deed goes unpunished

I followed all the rules, I got my platelets up, and I got to do chemo.  Notice, "I GOT TO DO CHEMO." In addition, my dearest oncologist turned up the heat, just like I knew he would.  All dosages of everything horrible were up.  Afterwards, I remember, oh yeah, this sucks.  I had a friend paraphrase a conversation we had on Monday when she brought dinner.  While I laughed at the email, in the future, I think it is best to not post, talk on the phone, or answer the door during the first three days of chemo EVER again.  Okay, back to my point, while I like to put the bend on chemo that is a privilege that not all have, that it is saving my life, that it is giving my kids a mom, my husband a wife, my parents a child, etc etc., there is nothing I would wish less on than someone having to do chemo over and over and over again.  There are somethings that are good but they come after the wave of nausea is over, when my tongue stops swelling, when you can literally feel everything you ate and how it is, or isn't, going down.  In those moments, when the house is so quiet because your kids are gone, and your husband is working, when the neighbors are working and the telemarketers finally give up, that you think, they could do it without me.  I think this one was especially hard on me because my buddy wasn't here.  The one little being that would lean on me while I puked, curl up next to me and readjust every time without complaint when I had to sit up from heartburn, the one that would meow when I came down the stairs in the middle of the night.  I mourned her more in the last few days than I have yet.  I  frantically tired to find a kitten, but it is like banging my head against a wall.....wait till June or July they say.  Deal with your grief the voice inside me says.  Face it there will NEVER be another cat like that.  And then slowly......the weather turns, the sun comes out, the heartburn subsides and my tongue kinda fits in my mouth again.  Food doesn't hurt anymore not that I look forward to it and our barn cat (who adopted us two years ago) rubs up against me while I sit in the sun, she brings me a mouse that she caught and she is looking for praise.  Nolan comes home while Grant takes Mason to Toss Ball Practice.  Nolan bought bubbles at the store at school today - one for me and one for him.  We blow bubbles outside.  We find out the barn cat, who is afraid of nothing (but Grant), is terrified of bubbles.  We laugh.  He gives me a kiss.  He says he is happy to be home, but he likes Grandma's treats better and Grandpa is out of money and can't afford socks.  (NOTE:  Who doesn't like Grandma's treats better and my father is ALWAYS OUT OF MONEY.)  I teach Nolan the song, "Liar, liar, pants on fire." and tell him to sing it to Grandpa.  He looks at me with wicked delight and says, "Really?!?!"  And I say, "Oh yeah, but just to Grandpa.  Deal?"  "DEAL!"  He has learned the words "evidence" and "investigation" since leaving me on Sunday.  The sun slowly moves and hits his face and I think this is the good part.  Would I have looked at him this way in the sun?  Would I have taken the time to blow bubbles?  Would I have had the balls to teach him that song and sing it to his Grandpa?  Probably not.  This is the good part because someday, I hope in my heart, Nolan remembers that moment and teaches his kids "Liar lair pants on fire" and smiles.  It is a privilege.  It is worth it.  Enjoy the sun, Ang