What was I thinking?

What was I thinking? About the second round of chemo, I decide to make soup. But not just any soup — cauliflower and blue cheese soup. Any idea how that might go down with a chemo patient? Let me tell you. Not well. She got sick just from the smell in the house. I threw out the soup and sat on the steps outside crying, partly out of frustration, partly out of sadness and partly because I was taking care of myself.


I wanted to be the very best caregiver I could, but I quickly realized that to do that I needed to take care of myself – physically, mentally and emotionally. That’s why I cried on the steps after the soup faux pas. It helped me cope, refocus and find another recipe. In fact I bought a recipe book on how to cook for a chemotherapy patient.

We became well versed in a world and a language that was once foreign: MRIs, CT scans, neutropenia, blood counts…

The last scheduled chemo was on a February 14 — Valentine’s Day. Not a very romantic activity. I wasn’t going to let chemo stop me from being romantic though. Kim’s Mom took her to her treatment. I arranged to use the office of a clinical trial nurse we knew at the cancer clinic to change into my Elvis suit. Armed with a dozen roses and closely followed by a group of curious nurses, I made my way to the chemo room and serenaded my sweetheart and offered her the roses. Afterwards, I made the rounds of the chemo room sticking tiny paper hearts on patients and taking requests. I even made an appearance in the waiting room. It certainly made for a very different chemo treatment that day.