We sailed through the first few days after Chemotherapy easily.

We went shopping the first evening; my mom insisted we go shopping or somewhere.

She was bouncing off the walls – I didn’t think delirium was a side effect of chemo

She walked fast, talked faster and would randomly burst into song, this happened all weekend long.

She took her usual walk on Saturday morning, had breakfast and sat around restlessly. We’d watch her closely and cautiously waiting for all those symptoms we’d been forewarned to expect.� We’d ask her every now and then if she felt anything, we checked her temperature a couple of times just to make sure she wasn’t faking it.

On Saturday afternoon, we went to pick up Ghanaian food from a woman in Surrey, did some more shopping and came home to watch movies.

My mom does the most amazing things sometimes… I wonder how she does it, I don’t know if it’s denial or strength. A family friend called on Saturday, obviously concerned, she brushes his concerns off in less than a second and rather lounges into this long tirade about my brother Sam.

We watched a bunch of movies that night while monitoring her – she still seemed fine.� She went to sleep around 10:00PM still as perky as ever. Two hours later, she comes back singing about Jerusalem and dancing.

By Sunday, my mother had convinced herself she was immune to the side effects of the chemo, we on the other hand were wondering if the drugs were really working. Still no sign of those annoying side effects.

On Monday morning she was still doing fine, she went for her hour-long walk and later on her class at the seniors centre.

By afternoon, she reported feeling a little dizzy; by the time we got home from work she was all bundled up looking sick. She said she felt weak and tired.

She slept on and off all day Tuesday and couldn’t even muster enough energy to watch Oprah in the afternoon. Last night, she almost fainted from the dizziness.

She was doing a little better this morning when I called, she tried walking for five minutes, watched a little tv (she told me HBO is coming to Canada). She thinks she’ll be able to manage her class tomorrow at the seniors centre.

We had our first dreary weather today.

We left the house at 9:00AM this morning armed with our anti nausea medications and sombre expressions.

Our appointment was 9:30AM, “The Agency” as they like to refer to themselves is less than 15mins away so we were early (Isn’t it ironic that a cancer agency doesn’t want to associate itself too much with the word?).
The sixth floor is where the aptly named Chemo Daycare is, we checked in with the overly peppy receptionist and waited. The large waiting room felt empty with two older gentlemen sitting at opposite ends. We sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes; I took a few pictures, then discovered the communal knitting basket.

Our nurse Debbie was a nice young patient woman who’s been a chemo nurse for almost a decade.

She went over the process with us once more, after the first dose of the anti-nausea medication we were ready to begin… we were a little tense but it was pretty anti-climatic thereafter.

First to go in was the Doxorubicin, two red liquid vials that took about fifteen minutes to be administered, then came the Cyclophosphamide which lasted another thirty minutes.

So it’s one down and seven more to go, except Debbie says to look at it more as taking it one day at a time.

My mom has been officially re-diagnosed with Breast Cancer. It’s Stage II this time; startling, because this time last year she was lump-free.

I wrote about my mom’s first diagnosis back in 2004, it was a different journey then.

After a lumpectomy and all else, we live to fight another day. Sad, but not really surprising, I always wondered if she was really ever cancer-free.�

The best thing about a cancer diagnosis is the “good news” portion of the process. The good news is, the cancer hasn’t spread to other parts of her body. Plus an improved vocabulary in cancer terminology (I get to use Her2 Protein in conversations now).

The bad news is, it’s a journey redux, which is a wild notion considering how much we’ve been through already. Then there were the tests; countless blood tests, a bone scan, liver scan, heart scan, x-rays and pokes and prods.

Last week was Chemo school to learn of its gory wonders; we try out the real thing tomorrow.

Back at the Evil Oil Co., we constantly did these emergency drills, the idea; I guess was to be prepared when an actual emergency occurred. No one took the drills seriously and I doubt I’ll remember them in case of a real emergency.

This came to mind when we started doing our own little drills, because there’s nothing worse than just sitting there being helpless. We’ve shopped, cleaned, sanitized and mapped out healing strategies. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take these drills seriously – there is so much information and so little time to act on them and get it right.

My mom has a huge amount of unwavering faith – enough for all of us. I’ve never been much of an optimist; I hear it’s needed most in these circumstances.

Although I’d rather be reading something else, I’ve found these books very helpful.

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