It Would Be A Shame

(Anonymous -- The song is by a group called the F 50’s. If you browse iTunes, you’ll find some oldies that they’ve remixed into dance/exercise tunes, including a really fun version of Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini that I just love. The rest of you Anonymous {Anonymi??} - thanks for putting your names in your comments, I appreciate getting a chance to know who's who.)

I drove Kendrie to Atlanta today for her regularly scheduled three-month follow up visit at the oncology clinic. Because she is doing so well, because she is having no complications, or late-term side effects to date (knock knock, who's there? Oh, me! With the wood!) these visits are not stressful for me. They’re actually sort of fun, since we occasionally run into other cancer families we know, and get to see staff and employees (Hi, Kati!) that we miss from our regular-days.

And, every three months, it’s a great reminder to me (I know, STILL with the reminders, when will I shut up already??) about how blessed and lucky and fortunate we are, with how great Kendrie handled her treatment. Although it’s probably silly, I’m like a new parent at a well-baby exam, eager to show off my beautiful daughter and how wonderfully she is doing.

Today, waiting in the exam room for the doctor to come in, I looked over at Kendrie with pride, noting her growth and energy and vigor. Such a far, far cry from the days I had to push her in a stroller because she didn’t have the strength to walk from the parking lot -- bald, nauseous, fatigued. I felt so proud and happy today, and let my eyes drink in a good long look at the beauty and miracle that is my daughter.

And I noticed a few things.

Like the fact she seriously needs a haircut.

And what I thought was a rosy complexion is actually a sunburn from where I forgot to put sunscreen on her face at last weekend’s soccer game.

And how desperately her nails need to be clipped. And how despite taking a bath last night, there was dirt and grime under them. Eww.

And the huge ugly bruise on the back of her thigh that makes it look as though I’ve been beating her with a tire iron, which is in fact from falling off her brother’s bike ramp and landing on a scooter. {I have witnesses.}

And how the knees of her cargo pants were both stained, and one knee actually had a hole in it.

And how the toe of one of her tennis shoes has rubbed almost completely through, so I expect to see the toe of her sock (most likely a sock with a hole in the bottom, if I checked) will pop through any day now.

And I thought to myself, “Great. We got her through leukemia treatment and made it to the other side. It would be a shame now to lose her to DHS for neglect.”

And I said, “Kendrie, why are you wearing those old tennis shoes? The toes are practically worn out.”

She ignored me, so I tried again, “Honey, why didn’t you wear your school shoes? Or at least some that aren’t so worn out?”

And she shrugged, never taking her eyes off the television, and grunted, “Dunno”

So I figure if it’s not neglect, they’ll take her away in an attempt to improve her social skills. Although to be fair, she was mesmerized with the Timon and Pumba episode that the clinic had playing. It’s hard to carry on a conversation with your boring mother, when those two start their rascally shenanigans.