I love snow days, except when they fall on Monday, Tuesday or Friday of a chemo week. Like this one.
Sunday morning, 8:30, the meteorologists were predicting a total snow accumulation of 1.3 inches for our area. They were off by a shade. We got 10.
I’m a bit of a weather buff myself — hey, I completed my Sky Warn training through the National Weather Service last Spring and I’m an Official Weather Spotter. I watch the radar. I saw this one coming. I knew.
So, I began making some calls. Snow Day means Theo doesn’t have school means I need to find coverage, as I have a 1:30 p.m. appointment with my oncologist. I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t do these appointments alone. There’s so much information coming in so rapid-fire in the fallout of January’s intense testing schedule that I never know what I’m going to get. Like Forrest Gump and his box of chocolates. Just ask my cousin Christine, who had to pick up the pieces of a sniveling, hysterical me when she came along for the ride to a “routine” appointment — and unexpected test results were in. That was the day I learned I was a Stage 4. Imagine if I’d been alone.
Snow Days — especially those that bring nearly a foot of snow with a quarter inch of ice as frosting on the cake — mean Don is going to be out all night plowing. He plows on the side for extra cash. We need that right now. He has steady commercial accounts that usually take him about four hours total. But after a storm like this, he’s out for 12 or 14 hours. Too much snow for one “push.”
He was supposed to take me to my appointment today. The best laid plans… He left last night at 8:30 p.m. and just came in at 10:30 a.m. He needs his sleep. Those are my direct orders. Because just think of the chaos that would ensue over here should he get sick. I am back on chemo this week. One of us needs to be healthy.
So, I called my friend Shirley. She’s going to take me. I’ll drop Theo off at our neighbor Kathy’s house and he’ll play with her kids. Shirley will pick me up at 12:30. Don is already in bed and trying to get in a “full night’s sleep” in before I get home from the doctor’s later this afternoon.
Snow Day Scramble.
There’s not much that’s easy about being a cancer patient.
Copyright 2011, Amy Rauch Neilson