“Proof that Hell exists on Earth” and/or "Why we hate steroids”

342 DAYS TO GO

(THANK HEAVENS ONLY 55 DAYS OF THEM WILL BE ON STEROIDS!)


In case you couldn’t guess, it’s Steroid-Week (otherwise known as “Has anyone seen our normally well-behaved daughter and who is this freak who has taken her place-Week”) at the Escoe household. And if you’re one of those people who understands better when you have a picture to see, let me explain it to you this way:



"This is me"




"This is me on steroids"



Yes, yes, I admit I blantantly stole this idea from Julianna Banana's dad Terry, when he used the This-is-me-adorable-kitty-cat and This-is-me-on-steroids-ROARING-LION to describe their own situation a few months ago. Truly, parents of children on steroids anywhere can relate.

Perhaps an even better example is what happened at dinner a few nights ago, when we were serving up an exquisitely well-balanced and nutritious meal of grilled cheese sandwiches and left-over macaroni & cheese, and after Kendrie demanded her good-sized portion of mac & cheese I commented there wasn’t much left. Brayden said, “But I want some, too” and I turned to ask Kendrie if I could share some of hers with Brayden. She, I swear I am not making this up, started leaning over her place at the dinner table, arms surrounding her plate and bowl like a paranoid gambler in Vegas protecting his chips at the craps table. I just sighed, and turned to see if I could somehow scrape another serving out of the bowl, and the next thing I heard was Brayden ….. “Ewww, gross! Mom, she’s licking all her macaroni & cheese and then putting it back in her bowl so she doesn’t have to share!!!”

And in case you think greed at the dinner table is the only ugly side effect from steroids, let me also share with you a story about our neighborhood friend, 4-yr old Nicholas, who is in Kendrie’s class at school. They hit it off as chums right away at the beginning of the school year and we’ve gotten together a few times as families to let the kids play. This Christmas, while we were home visiting my parents, Kendrie announced to my mom that Nicholas was her boyfriend. Oh really??? That was news to Blaine and me.

Fast forward to yesterday, when we were watching Nicholas and I could tell throughout the day they were starting to perhaps get on each other’s nerves a little. It was the third day in a row they had been together, so that’s understandable (hey, I know *married* people who can't stand to be together three days in a row), but suddenly I heard screaming and yelling. Being the pro-active, involved parent that I am, I sat in my computer chair and waited for one of them to come to me and tell me what was wrong.

Nicholas shows up, yelling, “She pinched me ….. really, really hard!” ( think it was the *really, really hard* part that bothered him) immediately followed by Kendrie screaming, “He started it by punching me in the port!!!” (she has figured out that any intentional horseplay that involves her port area really makes me crazy and uses it to her full advantage.) I had no idea who actually did what to whom, so I told Nicholas to come with me and sit in the living room for a few moments, and told Kendrie to lay down on her bed until she could behave properly. Oh. My. Gosh. Did the dam ever break! She was laying on her bed, thrashing about, kicking, flailing, screaming all the while:

“You don’t love me anymore!”

”Nicholas started everything!”

“You care more about Nicholas than you do me!”

“I don’t want to be in this family anymore!”

and the ultimate, most painful threat of all,

“I’M GOING TO FIND A NEW BOYFRIEND!!!”

Like I said, thank heavens only 55 days of the upcoming year will be spent on steroids.
Love,
Kristie
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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY:

“Taking those little green pills that my mom says make me cranky. I don’t think they make me cranky ………….. I just think my mom DOESN’T LOVE ME ANYMORE!!!”

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY:

Hey, this is Kristie talking ---- the best part is that the kids went back to school today and I’m betting ten to one that Kendrie is so happy to be back with her friends (and yes, even back with her boyfriend Nicholas) that she is pleasant and happy and distracted all day. And tomorrow is the last day of steroids!!!

“RANDOM THOUGHTS, COMMENTS AND PHOTOS”

PHOTOS --- As promised, here is a photo from last night’s Gingerbread-House Making Extravaganza. I’ve also included a copy of last year’s photo of the same activity for comparison. First of all, compare the quality of the houses and the shameful decline in this years’ gingerbread home candy decor. Last year, it was just the five of us in the kitchen for an hour. This year, we invited friends over to make houses with us, and my kids just wanted to hurry up and finish so they could go play. Well, except for Kendrie, who stuck with it the longest of all three of them. But she’s mad in this picture (hello, Steroid Girl) because she put her “snowman” in the “back yard” and I couldn’t get both the snowman and the “front door” in the photo.


GINGERBREAD HOUSES DECEMBER 2004



GINGERBREAD HOUSES DECEMBER 2003

The other thing that is interesting to compare is Kendrie herself. This time last year we were approx two months into treatment; she had just finished up induction and consolidation. She was off her 32-day steroid binge but still had the extra weight and bloating. And her hair was well on it’s way to falling out. What a difference a year makes, huh?

RANDOM THOUGHTS --- I wanted to share something that happened to me yesterday, a small thing that made an impact. I had gone to the elementary school to have lunch with Brayden, Kellen and Kendrie and was sitting in the lobby area waiting for their lunch time. My chair was to the side of the library door and while I was waiting, a boy, probably 9 or 10 years old, came out of the door and starting skipping (and I mean skipping; knees high and arms swinging!) across the commons area towards his classroom hallway. My first thought was --how cute and innocent it was to see a kid actually skipping in school. My second thought, being the pessimist that I am, was that if he noticed me sitting there, watching him, he would sure be embarrassed that I caught him, a mature and decorous third-grade student, skipping like a little kid in a daisy field. And sure enough, he turned his head, mid-skip, and made total eye contact with me. But instead of being embarrassed, he smiled the most cheerful smile I have ever seen, and kept right on skipping.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could all so UN-self-conscious that we could skip when we indeed feel like skipping? And not be embarrassed if people see us? When was the last time I skipped? Will I throw my back out if I try it????? I think I’m going to make that one of my New Years Resolutions …. Skip when I feel like it, and if I don’t feel like it very often, then do something skip-worthy. And smile cheerfully at the people who see me. Maybe I’ll inspire some others to skip as well.

COMMENTS #1 --- Thanks to all of you who entered your favorite Christmas movies in the guestbook (if you haven’t already done so, please do!) It’s appears the winners are the sentimental favorites “A Christmas Story” (You’ll shoot your eye out!) “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “Miracle on 34th Street” with several newer releases, “Santa Clause” “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” and “Elf” thrown in for good measure. Glad to see lots of other people have also discovered the wonderful “love, actually” which made my personal top three list. And winning the award for most unusual choice is “Die Hard” (her husband made her put it on the list since it takes place on Christmas Eve, ha!)

COMMENTS #2 --- So, our entire family was gathered around the tv tonight for the Big 12 Championship Game, watching the undefeated Oklahoma Sooners SPANK Colorado (not that I’m gloating or anything!) Brayden turns to me and asks, “Mom, why don’t any girls play football?” OK … here’s my thing … gender inequities aside, I *HATE* when people tell children they can be anything they want to be. Let’s be honest … they can’t. No matter how much someone might desire to be the next Clay Aiken, if they sing like a drowning cat in a water bucket, then I’m pretty sure there’s no Grammy in their future. My vertically-challenged daughter is not going to be a runway model, no matter how much she practices her catwalk stride and pouty, "don't hate me because I am so much more beautiful than you"-look. Just because you *want* to be President of the United States, doesn't mean you *can*. You can try, but there is no guarantee. Even the Constitution only grants you the right to *pursue* happiness. There is no sovereign right to claim anything you desire, despite the sense of entitlement so many people ………….. wait, sorry, got off on a tangent there.

So my point, and what I said to Brayden, in an attempt to be perfectly honest, was this, “Well, there are some girls who play in high school, and probably even college. But really, football is a very physical, tough game. Even these big, strong guys can get hurt because it’s so rough. So it’s not practical for girls, who are normally smaller, to play. The huge guys out there would squash them flat.” Reiterating, Brayden said, “So girls would have to be really, really big to play?” “Well, yeah” I said, “they’d have to be really strong and really, really big” And Kendrie, who was sitting next to me on the sofa, leaned over, patted my leg and said, “Mom, you could play.”

You know what? The steroid tantrum she threw at 8:30 when we wouldn’t let her have a slice of American Cheese before bed (no dairy due to chemo) didn’t bother me near as much tonight! Why should I care if she’s upset, anyway???? (rude little thing, ha!)

Hope your weekend is going well. We’ll check back in tomorrow and update the music again. Take care,

Kristie
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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: I am feeling a little run-down. I asked for Zofran again and laid around on the sofa for a while. And then tonight after my bath I laid down with my head in mom’s lap and my hair dried sticking straight up in the air! I thought it made me look like Elvis but my mom kept calling me Alfalfa (whoever the heck that is) and laughing at me! Stupid mom. First she couldn’t work the camera right last night to get my adorable snowman in the picture, and tonight she’s making fun of me.

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Well, there are only two more days of steroids this cycle, does that count???

***MISSING PERSON ALERT *** MISSING PERSON ALERT ***

Ok, everyone, be on your toes. It appears our sweet, loving, easygoing daughter Kendrie is missing. Well, hang on. Don’t call 911 just yet. To be exact, it’s only her personality that’s missing. A crying, whining, fussy brat has been left behind in the human shell that resembles her. Invasion of the Body Snatchers … er, Personality Snatchers? No, just a typical monthly steroid pulse. Rumor has it the side effects of steroids *can* be cumulative each month during long-term maintenance. In that case, let’s celebrate the fact we only have twelve steroid pulses left! (That sounds so much more optimistic than a whole ‘nuther year of steroids!)

Hey, I was pleasantly surprised by the number of people who signed in our guestbook today to tell me they actually like both TSO and Meatloaf, from yesterday's journal entry! I’m telling you, there is a whole fraternity of women out there; who, if we just had a few hours to meet in person, with a boatload of chocolate, a karoke machine and the Paradise by the Dashboard Lights song ….. I’m betting we could establish a bond like no other. :)

And speaking of guestbooks, thanks to those of you who let me know it was taking a while to open. I had Caringbridge archive everything prior to December 1st, so it should load a whole lot faster now and you can start signing again if you’d like. Thanks for being patient.

So here’s the next song for today (tomorrow); Boughs of Holly. If possible, I like this song better than the last one. But of course, I like all of the TSO songs “better than the last one”. And the more I hear them, the more I like them. I’m starting to worry I’m really simple-minded. Or just easily amused.

Finally, here are a few photos from our Christmas Decorating Frenzy tonight. We have company coming over tomorrow night and of course I waited until last night to “surprise” Blaine with new garlands that needed to be hung, new lights and lawn decorations for the outside of the house, a new table (some assembly required) … etc, etc. I definitely heard some grumbling underneath the Jingle Bells tune he was whistling. But we got the tree up and decorated tonight with no lives or limbs lost. (People limbs are what I worry about while my kids are falling all over the tree, not tree limbs!) My kids were pretty good sports about posing for photos (except for Ms. Grump-Butt aka Steroid Girl who only cooperated if I dangled cheese in front of her.) It’ll be a rude awakening when they have to pose all over again in this year’s New Christmas Pajamas.








In keeping with the Christmas theme, I want to do a survey in this journal update and ask all of you to give me your answers in the guestbook:

What are your three all-time favorite Christmas movies?
(Ok, maybe it’s not very pc … but I can’t think of any Kwaanza blockbusters off the top of my head … enlighten me if you can!) I’m asking partly because I’m nosy and partly to get ideas for movies to watch this year. And did I mention partly because I’m nosy???

Here are mine: (not necessarily in order; depends on my mood)

1. A Christmas Story (aka, the Red Rider BB Gun Movie, or The Ralphie Show, as it is known around here.)

2. Scrooged (with Bill Murray …. If nothing else, for the scene when Carol Kane belts him up side the head with that toaster… I thought Blaine was going to wet his pants when we saw that in the Minot Movie Theater!

3. love, actually (Oh, my gosh, this is the best movie!)

So, how about you guys?

I’ll be back with a new song tomorrow night!
Kristie
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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY:
Really, truly, I don’t understand why I’m so grumpy. Things that normally wouldn’t set me off are just making me a weeping mess today. Like Brittney, my neighbor down the street, playing with Kellen’s matchbox cars today without asking. I had a complete meltdown, and they’re NOT EVEN MY CARS!!!

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY:
Wow, you should see my mom jump. I forgot my back pack this morning and rather than risk the wrath of Steroid-Girl, my mom went home and brought it back to the school for me. Normally she’s a “tough break, kid” kind of mom, but these five days each month …. She’s like butter, I’m telling you, butter!

“HELP! I’VE FALLEN IN A VAT OF MACARONI AND CHEESE AND I CAN’T GET UP!!!”

Week #5 of DI #2

aka. “Of course, I could probably eat my way out and that would be ok, too.”


Yep, that’s pretty much where we are with Kendrie, which is odd considering she went off steroids ten days ago. Her appetite for Kraft Mac & Cheese is unending. She went from 36 to 40 pounds in one week (all of it in her cheeks and tummy --- she hasn’t been this Pillsbury Dough-Boyish since induction!) I’m almost embarrassed every time I go to Kroger and buy four or five boxes. I know the people in line around me have to be thinking, “Geez lady, could you introduce your family to some VEGETABLES?!?”

We had our looooooooooong day at the clinic yesterday. We are half way through this DI phase, wahoo! Unfortunately, the second half is notoriously harder than the first half, so let me remind myself not to break out the party hats just yet.

Started the day with an exam, a spinal tap, then had iv chemo and six hours of hydration. She was such a good sport all day; drawing, coloring, watching tv, reading, all day long, but asking me every twenty minutes if it was time to go yet. Then, ten minutes before she was finished with chemo, she fell asleep in the bed. Great.

So, in thinking about the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” reference to the macaroni, I realized there are probably lots of other catchphrases that can be slightly modified to fit our new, crazy life as a leukemia family. I thought it might be fun to name a few jingles here, then the modification that makes it a better fit for us. You see if you can name the products, which I’ll list at the end. Interactive quizzes are always so much more fun, don't you think?!? So grab a pen and get started! (If sitting through an eight-hour Discovery Channel marathon on the migration habits of the Zwahili tsi-tsi fly sounds like more fun to you, then I won’t take it personally if you skip right to the guestbook and sign in. Just let us know you were here!)

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Original Catchphrase #1: Raise your hands if you’re _________.

Our Catchphrase: Raise your hands if the nurse can’t get a good blood return out of your port because sometimes flapping your arms like a chicken helps the blood to flow better.
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Original Catchphrase #2: The fabric of our lives.

Our Catchphrase: The fabric of our life had better be some sort of stretchy elastic at the waistband after eating all these boxes of mac & cheese.
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Original Catchphrase #3: Taste the rainbow.

Our Catchphrase: Taste the rainbow. And everything else on the bottom shelf of the pantry, if you’re on steroids.
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Original Catchphrase #4: Don’t leave home without it.

Our Catchphrase: Zofran. Don’t leave home without it unless you want to be using your own purse or a Spiderman baseball cap as a puke receptacle.
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Original Catchphrase #5: A little dab’ll do ya.

Our Catchphrase: A little dab? Hell no, you slather that emla cream on until there is NO skin showing through!
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Original Catchphrase #6: Gee, your hair smells terrific.

Our Catchphrase: What hair?
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Original Catchphrase #7: Please don’t squeeze the _____________. (Bonus point if you know who said it.)

Our Catchphrase: Please don’t squeeze my cheeks just because I look like a mini-sumo wrestler.
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Original Catchphrase #8: Melts in your mouth, not in your hands.

Our Catchphrase: Chemo melts in your mouth, gags you on the way down, and then spews back out at your parents without any warning.
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Original Catchphrase #9: Sometimes you feel like a nut …. Sometimes you don’t.

Our Catchphrase: Trust me, a cancer parent feels like a nut most of the time.
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Original Catchphrase #10 : The incredible, edible ___________.

Our Catchphrase: The incredible, edible whatever-the-steroid-craving-of-the-week-is.
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Original Catchphrase #11: It takes a licking and keeps on ticking.

Our Catchphrase: Luckily, so do Kendrie and all these other great kids!
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Answer Key:
1. Sure deodorant
2. Cotton
3. Skittles
4. American Express
5. Brylcream
6. Gee Shampoo by Jergens
7. Charmin/Mr. Whipple
8. M&Ms
9. Almond Joy/Mounds
10. Eggs
11. Timex

Well, I’ll stop there. So, how many did you get correct? I’ve got a dozen more or so, but I don’t want to bore everyone to tears. If anyone out there, especially any of the CK parents, think of more jingles that fit our new lives, please share them in the guestbook. I could put everyone else’s suggestions in the next journal entry. Sort of like when Kelly Rippa used to guest-host for Kathi Lee and everyone liked Kelly better, anyway.

Hope you are all having a great week so far!

Love, Kristie
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KENDRIE'S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Today, it's tie between throwing up this morning all over the sofa and having my mom give me a shot in my leg tonight. Ick on both of those things. And ick on my mom for giving me the shot. And ick on my dad for holding me down!!!

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: My parents don't even roll their eyes anymore when I ask for more mac & cheese. They have figured out it's easier to just get up and make it then to wonder where on earth I'm putting it all. Although if you take a good look at my belly it's pretty clear where I'm putting it all!

"Where has my Energizer Bunny gone?"

End of Week 3 of DI #2

Kendrie is starting to remind me of a helium balloon a few days after a children’s party. A sad, droopy, purple dinosaur balloon that keeps dipping lower and lower as the helium level drops. Of course, she’s not purple. Or filled with helium. Or a dinosaur. And even if she was, I don’t think dinosaurs demand that their dino-parents fix them eight bowls of Kraft Mac & Cheese every day of a steroid pulse. But a little droopy and wilted just the same. Lots of naps, lying around on the sofa, puffing up from the steroids and the non-stop appetite.

She’s also complaining a lot of back pain which of course makes us nervous. Bone and joint pain is often a primary complaint at the time of diagnosis. It was for her anyway. So never mind that bone and joint pain is also a common side effect of the chemo meds, it’s still a little frightening to hear her say it out loud and to remember the last time she complained like that was when the leukemia made its uninvited appearance in our lives.

You know that silly comment you make to people when you are going to flip a coin to decide something--- “Heads I win, tails you lose” (am I the only one who says that?) Delayed intensification chemotherapy is a little like that. I look at Kendrie, laying on the sofa, pale and tired; sitting in a chair in the backyard watching Blaine build a deck and ignoring the swing she so eagerly ran to pump herself on only a week ago; bloated and puffy and ravenous from the steroids; and feel frustrated that this is how she will (most likely) spend the majority of her summer. This is supposed to be *summer vacation* for children, spent swimming and running and playing and chasing fireflies. I get angry that cancer is cheating her out of this rite of passage. Heads, leukemia wins.

Then the next emotion to play through my head is guilt that I have the nerve to complain about the very treatment that is saving her life. Who am I to gripe about a few lost months? She’ll have summer after summer after summer for the rest of her life to make up for this lost time. It’s like being given an expensive car and complaining about the high cost of gasoline. No, forget it, that’s a bad analogy. If leukemia is an expensive car then I’ll take the bus. But I gripe about the effects of chemo, then feel guilty, then think about all the other kids who have it a hundred times worse than she does with complications and relapses and transplants and hospitalizations, and feel guilty some more. Tails, I lose.

Have there been any official studies done about the number of cancer parents who wind up in therapy? Or on thorazine?? Or on bell towers??? Or even worse, on Jerry Springer????

The good news is that steroid week is over as soon as she takes her last dose tonight (can you hear the Halleluiah chorus?) and we have this week off from chemo. We will be getting her blood counts checked on Wednesday but can do that locally, so no need to drive to Atlanta this week.

We just have to buckle down and get through this last phase, DI #2, before beginning maintenance therapy in August. Everyone says, “LTM (long-term maintenance) is so easy …. Just wait and see how much better things are when you get there” and I have to be honest and admit things haven’t been that difficult for us even up to this point. So maybe I need to keep my whiny mouth shut and be glad for small favors.

Well, I should go. Dinosaur-girl is hollering for more mac & cheese. I hope everyone has a really good week.
Love, Kristie
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KENDRIE'S PERSEPCTIVE:

WORST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: My dad is building this really cool deck in the backyard and all I had the energy to do was half-heartedly swing a hammer at a few nails in a board. Surely Bob Villa didn't suffer this sort of indignity???

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: The self-satisfied knowledge that thanks to me personally, the employees at Kraft Macaroni & Cheese have job security as long as I am on steroids.

“Pulp Fiction”

2nd Half of DI #1

OK, you know those “FBI Most Wanted” posters that adorn the local post office? Or the handwritten notes you sometimes see on the cash registers of stores about not accepting checks from certain people? Well, I’m pretty sure Kendrie and I are next in line, to have our images plastered in IHOP restaurants nation-wide with a big notice underneath about “Do NOT serve these women in this restaurant!” Or maybe they’ll just put a picture of my big fat head, with a circle and a slash through it.

You see, Blaine and I started a new family tradition this year (is it already a tradition if we just started it? When does something actually *become* a tradition? Sort of like “1st Annual” … how can it be annual, if it’s only the first time?? But I digress………..) of pairing up, one kid with one parent, every Saturday morning for breakfast. We go round-robin, so the kids take turns going one at a time with Blaine for three weeks, then the next three weeks they go one at a time with me. The goal is an hour of uninterrupted time to visit and spend quality time together, just one kid with one parent. The idea behind it is when they become hormone-crazed, drug-addled, psychotic juvenile delinquents; at least the lines of communication will be open!

Saturday was Kendrie’s turn to go to breakfast with me. The kids get to choose the restaurant and for six weeks in a row, each kid has chosen IHOP. That’s fine with me; I like IHOP. So Kendrie and I go, and I asked to be seated as close to the bathroom as possible. (Warning, graphic information ahead) She had had diarrhea for three days at that point and I didn’t want to spend all morning walking through the restaurant if I didn’t have to. The host, a pleasant guy named Jerome, said no problem, and then proceeded to walk us to the booth as far from the bathroom as possible. I said, “I’m sorry, I wanted NEAR the restroom.” He looked at me like, “would you make up your mind, lady?” and moved us. Then he asked us what we would like to drink. This is the conversation, verbatim:

Kristie: “She’ll have chocolate milk and I’d like a large orange juice. Wait. Does the orange juice have pulp in it?”

Jerome: “Pulp?”

Kristie: “yes, pulp”

Jerome: “pulp?”

Kristie, “Yeah, you know, pulp”

Jerome: “pulp?”

Kristie (speaking louder, in case Jerome was hard of hearing) “pulp. PULP. Does the orange juice have PULP in it?”

Jerome: (shrugs shoulders) “Uhhh, you’re asking the wrong person.”

The obvious question should have been, “Well, then who exactly do you suggest I ask?” but instead I just said, “Never mind, water.”

Then our waiter came over and took our order (chocolate chip pancakes, which by the way were FABULOUS if you’re going to IHOP anytime soon.) While we were waiting on our food, Kendrie entertained herself by coloring on the kids’ menu cartoon with the crayons they provided. Or I should say, trying to color. The only gave her gray, green and brown which doesn’t provide a lot of options. We were visiting, running back and forth to the bathroom, waiting politely, and at last the food arrived. I reached across the table to pour syrup on Kendrie’s pancakes, and then made what will go down in history as the smoothest move ever …. Set the syrup bottle down on her crayola masterpiece, getting a single, solitary drop of pancake syrup on the picture and ruining it forever.

Immediately, tears well up and I can see my grave mistake. Despite my assurances that we can get her a new, clean menu on the way out ….. she keeps getting more and more upset. Then, suddenly, with no warning, she went past “fussing” into all-out crying and came around the table to climb in my lap.

I was more than a little bewildered (it’s just a silly menu, after all, with a crummy color selection to begin with) and kept asking her what was wrong. Finally, she whispered in a dramatic stage voice, “Those people are getting too close to me!” I looked around, confused, as the tables on either side of us were empty. “Who are?” I asked. “Those people!! (Pause) I don’t know!” she wailed. “Good heavens, the chemo meds are making her hallucinate!” was my first thought. Just then, our waiter walked past and asked if anything was wrong. “We need a new kids’ menu, please” I said, with a slight look of panic in my eye. He innocently asked, “Oh, is there something wrong with her pancakes?” Kendrie is sobbing, people are staring, and in a voice similar to the one that came out of the little girl on The Exorcist, I hiss, “We don’t need food, just a clean menu”. I could see the thought in his eyes, “Jerome was right… this lady is a nutcase” but he did bring me a clean menu.

Then tonight, on our way home from Atlanta, we stopped for dinner at, you guessed it, IHOP. The thing I love about IHOP is that they serve pretty much everything, 24 hours a day. About the only thing they don’t serve is macaroni and cheese. Tonight for dinner, Kendrie decided she wanted macaroni and cheese. (Sigh.) So the waiter was standing at our table, and I was trying to explain to Kendrie that they didn’t have any mac & cheese. I’m running down the list of the other items she can choose, she’s shaking her head at every one, and the waiter finally says, “I’ll just go get your drinks while you decide” which everyone knows is Waiter-speak for “God, I hate my job and all the stupid people that come in here.”

Kendrie reluctantly agreed to eat mashed potatoes, and I clearly explained to the waiter that I needed them to be served WHITE. No pepper, no peel, no herbs or spices. WHITE. So then of course he brought them out with brown gravy on them and I had to send them back. He did then bring white potatoes, stopping only long enough to spit in them, I’m pretty sure. Then Kendrie didn’t touch the potatoes and only ate the butter that came on the side. Then she decided she wanted ice cream and the waiter looked at me like, “you have GOT to be kidding me!” and I broke down and said, “Hey, she’s on chemotherapy and I let her eat whatever tastes good, just so she eats.” But I still don’t think it bought us much sympathy. Especially when she announced the ice cream was “too cold” and didn’t eat it either. So I figure the next time I go into either of those two IHOPs, I will see my picture on the wall as a mug shot of sorts, and all the waiters will be playing even/odds to see who gets stuck with our table. Good thing there’s a Cracker Barrel just down the road.

Oh, the other interesting thing that happened at IHOP tonight was when a family came in and sat across the room from us. I could see the kids looking at Kendrie, and whispering to their parents, and I’ll admit I was a bit surprised. She had on a hat and I didn’t think it was obvious she was bald, but those kids could tell something was up. Then, when we got up on one of our numerous trips to the bathroom, I realized the guy in the booth behind us was an albino! I don’t know why I think that was so fascinating, except I can only remember seeing an albino one other time in my whole life. And hey, he WAS a lot more interesting looking than a little bald kid.

So our dinner at IHOP capped off a very long day for Kendrie, as she started the second half of her Delayed Intensification phase. The day began with an exam and port access at 8:30, then she had a spinal tap at 9:30, then an hour of iv hydration, then received zofran (anti-nausea drug) and two new chemo meds, cytoxan and cytarabine (both of which disrupt the DNA in cancer cells, preventing reproduction of those cells) followed by three more hours of iv hydration (to prevent possible bladder damage that these drugs can cause). She was tired and grumpy and bored and fussy.

Adding insult to injury was the fact she caught the stomach bug that Brayden and Kellen had last week and has had diarrhea for five days. In fact, she lost three pounds this week because of it. That's ten percent of her body weight, which is quite a bit for a little kid. But the insult came with the discovery that the AFLAC cancer center apparently orders their toilet paper from the "Acme Tree-Bark Company", and it was not a pleasant discovery, let me tell you. So bad, in fact, that I wound up going down to the parking garage to get some extra baby wipes out of the car. But, too little too late and we came home with an additional prescription for butt cream. So I have no doubt that sitting around the clinic for eight hours today didn’t help matters any. Also, once we arrived home she started her 14 days of oral 6-TG, and we’ll be giving her shots for the next three days.

I expressed concern to the oncologist that her counts hadn’t fallen yet. Chemotherapy is a double-edged sword. You want your child to feel well and not suffer too many side effects, but when their blood counts stay high, you worry that the chemo isn’t effective enough. After all, if it’s not even killing off the “good” cells how can it kill off the cancer cells? The doctor’s comment was “Don’t worry, even if her counts haven’t fallen in the first half of DI, you can bet they will in the second half.” So now we’ll wait and see what happens. Cytarabine (the shots we will administer) often causes fever so we have been instructed to watch for that. It also causes nausea so we will be giving anti-nausea medicine half an hour beforehand. But the biggest challenge comes with the oral medication, which must be given on an empty stomach at bedtime, no food or dairy for two hours before or two hours after. Preferably given right before bedtime. If the raw heiney doesn’t push her over the edge, going to bed without her beloved glass of chocolate milk certainly will.

Oh, and speaking of being pushed over the edge, apparently the little rodent who invented the computer virus that wiped out my hard drive last week has an even bigger geek cousin --- who hacked into my Pay Pal account today and bought a thousand dollars worth of Star Wars memorabilia and games with my credit card! Star Wars games!!! I mean, for Pete’s sake, if you’re going to be a thief, be a cool thief and buy big screen TV’s, or clothes, or jewelry. But Star Wars junk????? Come on! Thank heavens the site they ordered from raised a red flag since the person spent over a thousand dollars in less than 24 hours and so the company cancelled all the orders. Pay Pal assures me my card is secure …..

If it gets too crazy, can I call one of you to have dinner with me at IHOP and commiserate?
Kristie
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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Spending all stinkin’ day at that clinic! AND! I got a back poke and was supposed to get something out of the treasure box and my mom forgot about it with all the other stuff going on!

BEST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Doing arts & crafts with Ms. Laura, the child-life specialist. I made a butterfly picture that she is submitting for a cancer-card contest. If they decide to print it, I will send everybody one!

Prognosis: FAIR

Week #2 of Delayed Intensification #1

Let’s see, when I last exited this journal, we had just begun our journey into pill-taking Hell and couldn’t find our way out with a blowtorch and pith helmet. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that Friday morning I left for a four-day scrapbooking retreat and abandoned Blaine to figure out the best way to get the rest of the steroids in her. We did try gelcaps and I think those will work with more practice, but for the rest of the week, the method that worked best was crushing the pill, mixing it with a teaspoon of applesauce and a heaping teaspoon of sugar. And then Blaine wondered why she was too wound up to go to bed……

We had really psyched ourselves up for the mood swings and huge appetite that normally accompany steroids, and then high-fived ourselves when it didn’t happen. Of course, we forgot that steroids take a few days to clear out of a person's system, and the last few days haven’t exactly been rainbows and bunnies.

Monday night Kendrie and I were in the hotel restaurant, ordering dinner. She insisted on a grilled cheese sandwich, but then wouldn’t eat it because it was “too brown”. She did, however, LOVE the cheese sticks I ordered for an appetizer. However, she proceeded to peel all the breading off and just eat the cheese. So basically I paid $5.69 for four ounces of melted mozzarella. Then she insisted on another helping and knowing that money falls from trees, I ordered it. Naturally, she didn’t want it once it arrived. We left it on the table so the uneaten grilled cheese wouldn’t be so lonely.

Tuesday night we went out to dinner for Brayden’s birthday. While ordering the cheese stick appetizer, I turned to Blaine, in a smug and superior manner, and told him to watch how much Kendrie loves them. Yep, you guessed it, she wouldn’t take a single bite. Then it was “noodle soup” three or four times a day, and this morning she wanted Cheerios. Adamantly. And of course we were out. I offered Rice Crispies and Rice Chex, but were either of those good enough? No! The realization that I wasn’t going to pull a magical, hidden box of Cheerios out from behind my ear was enough to bring on the first, full-fledged tantrum.

There are three basic rules that the entire human race should follow in the pursuit of happiness. Rule one, never stand downwind of someone who spits when they talk. Rule two (for ladies only) never assume the toilet seat is down during the middle of the night. And Rule three, NEVER argue with a child on steroids. Even residual steroids. So being the rule-follower that I am, I told Kendrie to give me five minutes to put on my shoes and brush my hair, then we would go to the grocery store and buy the cereal.

As you might have guessed, during that five-minute span my older daughter’s school called to tell me she had a stomach virus and needed to be brought home. So there I am, in the middle of the school parking lot, with one daughter clutching her abdomen and groaning there was no way she could go to the store, and a VERY persistent four-year old who was NOT giving up on those Cheerios! What’s a caring mom to do? Yep, call her husband and make him cancel his lunch plans to drive all the way across town to buy Cheerios. If someone would invent a drive-through grocery store, they would make a mint.

So, the Cheerios bought us an hour or so of good behavior, then we had the inevitable meltdown. Are you ready for this? Kendrie said I wasn’t attending to business in the bathroom (ie., wiping her bottom) fast enough and that she was missing “Max and Ruby”, heaven forbid! She went into complete hysterics that I wasn’t faster, and wound up lying on the hall floor, crying, screaming, and kicking her legs for twenty minutes. Pointing out to her that actually this tantrum was the reason she was missing “Max and Ruby” seemed kind of useless, so I just sat there for a while. Then I called Blaine and held up the phone so he could enjoy the concert as well. (Poor guy can’t catch a break, even at work!) Finally, when the screams were less frantic and I could hear the huge gulps of air in between, with the quivering sobs starting, I picked her up, carried her to the chair, and rocked with her until she was calm again. I’m hoping the ‘screaming baby’ border I added to the site is only temporary. Although getting to rock and cuddle with her afterwards is almost worth enduring the tantrum.

I’m guessing all the steroids will be out of her system just in time for us to start taking them again next Monday. But we’ve bought mini m&m’s for her to practice pill-swallowing and are hopeful we can at least avoid THAT part of the drama.

I probably could have sat back and laughed at all of this (after all, there are days I want to lay on the hall floor and kick my legs, too) but I had something happen today that made everything more realistic. I was filling out some paperwork for insurance, and had copies of her medical records from the oncologist. Being the proactive parent that I am (ie., nosy) I was reading all of her records. There were no surprises in there until I reached the final page, with the physician’s over-all diagnosis and assessment, and there, on the line following the word “Prognosis”, was FAIR. FAIR? That really caused me to catch my breath because of course I’m still holding on to the 80-85 percent survival rate that we are all quoted.

FAIR. Wow, that really hurts.

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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY:

I wouldn’t have thought it was possible for Mom to douse me with Purell any more than she already does, but when my sister came home from school with some sort of upset stomach, I think my mom was looking to set up an IV line of antibacterial soap on all of us! Geez, mom, relax!

BEST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY:

For once, mom was force-feeding someone else in the family medicine instead of me!

“A” list of Emotions (aka) 24 Hours in the Life of a Cancer Mom

So here we are, finished with day 4 of Delayed Intensification. Except for one glaring exception, mentioned later, things are going just fine. Kendrie’s visit on Monday was good; spinal fluid clear (sigh of relief) and home at a reasonable hour. Thanks once again to Nadine M. for bringing us dinner (I know you’ve got to be sick of cooking for us!) Kendrie got sick from the meds for the first time, but didn’t let it slow her down. Today’s visit was ok, too; not as bad as I feared regarding the shots. I warned her ahead of time and she certainly wasn’t happy about it, but we suffered through and five minutes later she was fine again.

I’ve been giving you Kendrie’s perspective in recent journal entries, and thought today that I would give you my emotions, instead, regarding this crazy cancer world. Or maybe the world isn’t crazy, but I am. The jury is still out. Beginning last night, and all beginning with the letter “A”.

Kendrie has taken to falling asleep with Blaine and me in our bed. She loves it, we don’t, but we’re suckers the past few months. Then we just take her back to her bed once she’s asleep. So last night we’re laying there giggling, and I said something along the lines of “I would kick you out of this bed right now except I love you so much” and she said, “Do you love me?” and I laughed and said of course. Then she said, in this teeny tiny voice, “Even though I have leukemia?” and it almost took my breath away. So I said, “of course even though you have leukemia” and then she asked, “Even though I’m bald-headed?” Anguish might be too strong of a word, but it’s the closest “A” word I could come up with to describe the feeling in the pit of my stomach, that my child would even be in the situation of having to wonder these things.

Today began with Kendrie and me preparing to leave for Atlanta. She was complaining that her hands were cold (yes, even in Georgia it gets chilly enough for gloves) and I made the comment that I couldn’t find gloves this year that were small enough for her hands, but that NEXT winter, when we would be driving to Atlanta, her hands might be big enough. It was like a punch in the stomach, “oh my God, we’ll still be doing this a year from now.” And then the Part 2 of the 1-2 Punch, “and we’ll still be doing this the winter after THAT” For just a moment, there was a feeling of Abject Misery, at how much this just sucks. Just as quickly though, that was replaced with feeling Ashamed, thinking that I should count myself lucky we have this treatment to try. Thinking of the parents who have lost children to this disease, and how they would probably give anything to be still taking their kids to treatment.

At the clinic today, Kendrie had to be observed for an hour and a half after the shots, to make sure she didn’t have any reaction to the medication. We were hanging out in the playroom, painting, and all of a sudden I hear the clinic staff break into song, “For he’s a jolly good fellow”. Turns out, one of the kids at the clinic was having his last day of chemo today, and then would be officially OT (off-treatment). It’s a really huge deal, and the staff takes photos, has balloons, etc. I sat there for a minute, feeling in Awe for this boy and his family, and all they must have been through to reach this milestone. Can you even imagine the sense of Accomplishment that must come with that? And I’ll admit I felt A Little Bit Envious, wishing we were at the end of treatment, also.

Kendrie was sort of limping around the clinic, holding her thighs, and another mom looked over and said sympathetically, “did she get her Peg shots today?” I can’t tell you the sense of Affinity I felt to this woman, an Alliance of sorts, as we sat and compared stories. I have a fabulous online support group, and friends and family all over the country who care about us and are wonderful. But this was the first time I had sat down, face to face, with someone who was going through the exact same thing. It was a real pick-me-up when I needed one.

I also felt Affected as she told me about her brother who died from leukemia some 40-odd years ago. Given one shot of vincristine at the time of diagnosis and sent home with a prescription for steroids-- it makes my stomach ache to think how leukemia was a death sentence years ago, and makes me feel such immense Appreciation at how far research and treatment have come, for kids like Kendrie, who now have a fighting chance.

Then, the journey home. Let me say first of all that I feel Amazement for all the people who drive daily in the Atlanta rush hour traffic and haven’t suffered an Aneurysm, because I sure thought I was going to.

There was the feeling of Aggravation, when Kendrie informed me that NONE of the dvd’s I brought to watch in the van were “good”. Apparently, Spirit, Like Mike, and The Lion King all have issues with the heroes being either orphaned, or somehow separated from their families. Kendrie told me they were all “bad” movies for that reason and would only watch the one other movie I brought, The Sandlot. So we watched it. Four. Times. I used to really like that movie, but after the fourth time in a row, even the hysterical swimming pool scene with Squints and Wendy Pfeffercorn failed to amuse me.

Then, the Annoyance that I felt when Kendrie swore that the scrambled eggs she got at IHOP for dinner were manna from Heaven and her life would be over if she didn’t get a second helping. So, being the good mom that I am, I flag down the waitress and order another scrambled egg, only to have Kendrie take one bite and tell me she was full. I don’t think this is a cancer issue as much as it is a 4-yr old issue, but it got on my nerves just the same.

And, what day would be complete without a rousing bout of Anger. It’s probably very un-PC for me to admit that I got angry with my Cancer-kid, and DFACS will most likely show up on my doorstep tomorrow morning for putting this out in public, but tonight’s decadron episode very likely made my “Top 5 All Time Most Irrationally Angry At My Kids”--list. We started our steroid pulse on Monday and I was prepared for the increased appetite and mood swings, neither of which have happened yet. What I was NOT prepared for was her completely balking at taking the damn meds! A wise parent once told me you cannot force a child to eat, sleep, or poop. Let me just add “take steroids” to that list.

It took Blaine and me (are you ready for this?) an HOUR and FORTY-FIVE MINUTES to get one stinking pill down her tonight. Her resistance has gotten worse each dose, but tonight’s was over the top. The first half hour was her pursing her lips, holding her hands over her mouth and shaking her head. She was so wound up, crying and fussing and fighting and thrashing, that when we finally got it down her, she threw it right back up. And the next time. AND THE NEXT. How do you explain to a 4-yr old that skipping a dose is NOT an option? We crushed the pill, we tried the pill whole, we used applesauce, yogurt, pudding and kool-aide. There was bribery, pleading, tears, whining, begging, threatening – all to no avail. Then Blaine tried logic and reasoning – who was he kidding? Finally we got her to swallow a pill and not vomit it back up. Thank goodness, since she was running out of clean pajamas!

So 11:30 pm saw me headed to the grocery store, naturally, in the rain. You have to understand how wound up I am at this point. Angry at Kendrie, angry at Blaine (don’t all Ugly-Parenting moments lead to Ugly-Marital moments as well?) angry at cancer in general. I get to Kroger, and every single buggy is outside, in the rain, soaking wet. I say to the lonely cashier, “don’t you have any dry carts?” and he replies, in a brilliant, thoughtful, the-customer-is-always-right sort of way, “No”. I completely lost it. Huffing and puffing and stomping about, making very loud comments like “isn’t THAT great customer service, that I have to go out in the rain to get my own damn cart!” and then I make a big show of bringing it inside and pushing it over to the restrooms, ripping half an entire roll of paper towels off the wall and drying off my cart, all the while making my displeasure known. Of course, a few minutes later I realize what an Asshole I’ve been and hide for a while in the produce section behind a display of oranges, hoping that particular cashier will be off-duty soon and someone else will check me out. But alas, I had to show my face again. So Midnight-Cashier-Man at the Kroger on Watson Blvd, if you are by some chance reading this, my most sincere Apology.

Ah, what a day I’ve had. But you know? I actually feel better getting it all off my chest .... so thanks!

Hope you all have a wonderful holiday weekend, and Happy Valentines Day! Love, Kristie
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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Well, it’s a tossup. Five hours in the van, plus I had two strange women coming at my legs with needles which wasn’t much fun, and two insane parents force-feeding me medication until I threw up all evening. Take your pick, they all pretty much sucked. (can I say sucked?)

BEST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Not much.

Consolidation - Day 15

THANKS, THE SWEATER EPISODE, AND A DEFINING MOMENT (no, not one of those “Hallmark” ones, either)

Thanks from the bottom of my heart to all of you for the outpouring of support for my online-mini-nervous-breakdown last week. (see previous journal entry) It was especially great for me to hear that I hit the nail on the head for so many other cancer-parents, as well. Trust me when I say I had no idea how big the “crap sandwich seating section” really was. Too big. While our family was certainly not happy to be shown to our booth, the other patrons in this restaurant have made it bearable, educational, enlightening, and at times, even pleasant. I promise next time I feel the need to vent (out loud) I will put another disclaimer at the beginning!

Kendrie had her day 14 clinic visit yesterday in Atlanta. We drove up Monday night to stay in the hotel, which she loves (I have no idea why, the pillows are too fluffy and they don’t get Toon Disney on the tv, but anyway…..) and last week’s appointment went so well I had very little hesitation about this one. But, the morning started off badly when I realized the sweater I brought her to wear no longer fit. Here is an exerpt from my Christmas letter two years ago, pertaining to Kendrie:

`````` “” At just over two years old, she is very verbal, and we are quite sure she is a genius, at least if brain size has anything to do with it. After all, she needed a 5-yr old sized bike helmet to fit her this year. (Looks like my fat-head gene also landed on my children!) If we are wrong and she’s not a little Einstein, that’s ok, she will still win the Jr. Miss America pageant on talent – she has learned to snort and finds it hysterical to do as often as possible. Above all, she is still my “baby” and I’m enjoying her greatly.””``````

So my point is, don’t ever try to fit “last year’s clothes” over a kid who has been on steroids, especially a kid who has a fat head to begin with.

We were a hundred miles from home and it was the only clothing item she had besides her pajamas, so I stretched, I strained, I pulled, I pushed---I simply could not get that sweater over her head. Finally, after much sweat (on my part) and tears (on her part) it was on, but by then she was already mad at me. Add to the trauma a new pair of shoes that she swore hurt her feet too bad to walk in (never mind she hadn’t even gotten off the bed yet) and it was not our best beginning.

She started crying while they were taking her vitals and it was going downhill rapidly. When it came time to get her port accessed, the nurse said I was going to have to take her sweater back off, and quite frankly, it just wasn’t worth it to me. I asked for scissors, and when the nurse hesitantly handed them to me, I went after the neck of that sweater like a maniacal seamstress. The child-life specialist, after getting over her shock of seeing me hack up a sweater like that, gave Kendrie a Children’s Healthcare t-shirt, which she loved, so all in all I say cutting up the sweater was the best part of the day.

Once again, her anxiety level was so high they had to give her lots of extra “sleepy” meds during her spinal tap. Half way through, she cried out to me, “but I don’t like it here!” Thank goodness for understanding doctors and nurses who don’t take it personally. Our only complaint this week (well, besides the fact she has cancer and all) is a persistent cough. Her oncologist said he heard “a twinge of a hint of a possibility of some crackling in her lungs” so we’ve added another antibiotic to our buffet of medicines here at the house, to make sure it doesn’t turn into walking pneumonia. Ah, remember the good ole’ days when your kid coughed, you threw him a throat lozenge and told him to go outside and play??? Not so simple anymore. Other than that, though, an uneventful visit.

We did have sort of a defining episode today, when I had to remind myself I am not only the parent of a child with cancer, but a parent, period. Perhaps it’s the fact we gave Kendrie anything she wanted, whenever she wanted it, for the past month or so in an attempt to thwart any steroid rages (plus there’s that whole “making it up to a sick child” thing – I’m sure we all need therapy) but I’ve noticed a few things that lead me to believe it’s time we reined it in a bit. First of all, twice yesterday when she thought no –one was looking, she hit her brother and sister, then was VERY upset when she got into trouble. Then she told Blaine last night, “I just got back from the doctor’s today and you have to be nice to me”. Hmmmmm. The final clue was when Martha Stewart, Hillary Clinton, and Madonna all called her for private instruction on “How to throw enough of a fit you always get your way.”

Anyway, she and I went to Target this morning and I was carrying her. From one end of the store to the other, then yet another corner, then back to the photo department to wait for our pictures. So when we were ready to leave I told her she was too heavy and would have to walk. Let’s be honest, Target is a big store and I’m an old, fat, out-of-shape lady who was lugging around 39 pounds of dead weight! Her response was simply to stand in the middle of the aisle with her arms held up. “Fine”, I said, “I’ll carry you, but you have to promise to take your medicine when you get home with no trouble.” I said this in a teasing manner with a smile on my face and she simply looked at me and refused to speak. It really rubbed me the wrong way and I said, “ok, Kendrie? You have to say, ‘ok, mom’ and then I’ll pick you up and carry you out” and the little turd refused to say it. Two simple words and she wouldn’t move her lips. Can you spell p-o-w-e-r-s-t-r-u-g-g-l-e?

I had one of those, “oh, I WILL win this one!” thoughts and sat my big fat butt right down on the floor in the middle of the electronics department at Target. She just looked at me and I said, “we are not leaving until you say ‘ok, mom’ to me” And we sat there. She cried (just a little, she was having trouble working up real tears) she pouted, she tried to sit in my lap and I told her no. Finally, after fourteen minutes (hey, fourteen minutes might not sound like a long time, but when you’re on the floor at Target, with Christmas shoppers pushing their buggies around you and your little bald kid, it’s a long time!) she said it and I picked her up and carried her out to the van. As soon as we got home she glared at me and went to bed and is now sleeping. I swear, some days I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

On a side note, we had a great family moment yesterday when Blaine (aka breadwinner and Chief Thinks He’s The Boss But Everyone Knows Mom Really Is) was promoted to Lt. Colonel in the USAF. I’m so glad Kendrie’s counts were good and high and we could all attend his promotion ceremony as a family. Honor, prestige, blah blah, we just need the raise so we can buy our own Pizza Hut. I’ve put up a photo from this event, plus one from Thanksgiving, in the guest book section of the web site.

Special thanks to Kelly E. and Maureen I. for donating blood! Everyone please give the "gift of life" this holiday season by donating blood!
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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: I don’t care how much they try to soften the blow by letting me pick something out of the treasure box (although the Matchbox cars I got yesterday WERE pretty cool) those spinal taps stink!

BEST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: When I got too tired riding my bike around the block yesterday, my dad got off his bike, and pushed me the rest of the way. How’s that for service?!? Now I just need someone to wave me with palm fronds and feed me grapes, er, breadsticks!