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Connie and I both got a good solid night's sleep last night. I think she was still having some effects from the gawd awful pill she took. Me, well, I have been so stressed out that sleep and the resultant dreams is a place I can go where Connie isn't sick. But she merely needs to whisper my name to help her up out of the recliner and I am up in a flash.
Still no nausea, thank goodness and she has a pretty good appetite. Drinking lots of fluids and she has been researching what foods she should be eating to help with the side effects of chemo doing damage to her body. While we were talking, she looked me straight in the eyes and asked "Am I going to make it?" She looked like a small child asking if there is really a Santa Claus, and would believe and trust the answer I gave her. So with all my heart, I said "Of course you are. We are going to get through this. Then we are going to do all the things we have been wanting to do, but something always got in the way." You know something? I believe what I said. And I will trade God whatever he wants in order to make that so.
Connie is sleeping now, but I have to get her up around midnight so she can take the last of the set of anti-nausea pills for this round of chemo. She has been drinking more, so I suspect we will be up every 2 hours or so to get her out of the recliner to make the dash to the bathroom to empty her stressed bladder.
Haven't taken a valium today. Mostly because Connie seemed in good spirits and with a little forced selective amnesia, I can almost think things are normal.
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