Dog Days of Summer or Friday the 13th, Schmirteenth
Entry 1 8:54 a.m. Willow has learned to fly, or so she thinks. Last night, as Jenny was laying on the sectional, Willow came around the corner, jumped and cleared the back of the couch. She pulled off a perfect four-point landing. She literally stuck the landing. Unfortunately, by stuck I mean she landed on Jenny's chest where the needle from the chemo pump enters the port to her vein. Jenny didn't see it coming. Neither of us did. Jenny, after pushing off a clueless and cuddly behemoth (its like cuddling Wm. "Refrigerator" Perry as a toddler at this point), doubled over, more in fear than in pain. But finding her port was secure, she wss still understandably shaken and also angry. She went to bed. This morning, she woke to find the chemotherapy drug FolFox leaked and leaking all over her clothes, and the needle completely out from the port. She bagged the pump and needle, and called Dr. P. The best laid plans, and all that. ...