More Damn Cancer; Little Girl, Smaller Bladder

First and foremost, a great big shout out to my mother-in-law nonpareil, Anne Silk, who I am sad to say joined the ignomineous Cancer Club yesterday with a diagnosis of breast cancer.

A little about my mother-in-law for all of you who don't know her: it's said that guys aren't supposed to like their mother-in-laws, but I am pleased to say that in my experience, nothing could be farther from the truth. She is truly the best mother-in-law a guy could ask for and I am not just saying that because of her diagnosis. Everyone who knows her knows that she is special.

Aside from being a wonderful woman -- and seriously, the greatest grandmother on earth -- and she has ALWAYS been there for us in our time of need. Given that April and I have both had our own bouts of cancer over the past four years, you can imagine how much we've needed her. Anyway, I could go on forever but suffice to say she's a really special lady. She's also a really tough woman and I am sure she will come through this fine. The good news is that it appears to have been caught in a very early stage. So, please be so kind as to join me in directing some good vibes towards Lake George, NY this week. I'll be sure to keep you posted as to how she's doing.
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On the topic of cancer, I had my some blood work done this week, including TSH and thyroidglobulin (TG) tests. TG is a very important test for us thyroid cancer folks as it provides a strong marker as to whether their is cancer in our system-- and at what level. My last test if I am not mistaken was .2, which is fairly low, but not quite what would be categorized as undetectable. Obviously, I am hoping that results from this test are at the same level as my last one.
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On to a lighter topic. The wife is finally home and man oh man am I happy about that. I also will go on record that I am very appreciative of her -- and all you at-home mothers out there. Actually, forget at home. All you mothers in general.

I must say that I was doing SO well -- better than I anticipated, if I do say so myself -- until around 5:30 am this morning when all hell broke loose.

Actually, it started at dinner last night when The Girl declared she wanted chicken tacos for dinner. I knew she wouldn't like them but she insisted and so I relented as she is a somewhat adventurous eater (at least compared to The Boy). As predicted she wouldn't touch them and when we got home and ready for sleep, she declared that she was hungry - and thirsty. So I gave her something to eat and a cup of orange juice (her request, not my idea).

Then she asked for more orange juice, which was mistake number two behind the tacos. And then she requested some water. And finally some Pediasure, which is a high calorie supplement that my skinny ass kids take daily. If you are not following where I am going with this, allow me to summarize: she drank liquids. Copious amounts of liquids.

So, I put her in bed with her brother (don't even ask; this is one of the "special" rule breaking things we did while mom was away. What can I say? They really enjoy hanging out together. This was dumb mistake number three).

At around 5:30 am The Girl came in and said "Dad, I want to sleep in my bed. Is that ok?" Being that it was 5:30 am I muttered something in the affirmative but couldn't help but think that this was fairly weird. About 45 minutes later The Boy came in and asked if he could sleep in my bed. I asked what was bothering him and he replied, "I think Summer may have wet the bed. It is soaking wet."

Uh oh.

I contemplated the situation, thought for a moment about what needed to be done and then did what any self-respecting single dad would have done under the same circumstances: I went back to sleep. (But only for a few minutes, Dear Wife).

So, I went in her room and man -- to say she peed would be an understatement. It was a bedwetting like I have never seen. I mean, it was so bad I thought about putting on my speedos and going for a few lap swim. I mean -- everywhere. Her clothes were like she jumped in the ocean. The blanket -- gnarly. Soaked through two layers of sheets and straight through the mattress. I think it went through the mattress down to the carpet and into the floorboards.

I immediately went into Defcom 4 mode and did what came most naturally: I called my wife, who happened to be boarding a plane in Orlando. "I don't know" she replied a bit tersely, "call my mother and ask her what to do."

Mind you this is the same woman, above, who was diagnosed with cancer less than 24 hours previously. But, a guys got to do what a guys got to do and I profess to not being an expert on mattress cleaning. So I called but she wasn't there.

So. fast forward and I'm working every detergent in the house. I wake the kids up because I have to drop them off at camp and get to the office for an important meeting. The Boy gets up and could care less about my predicament. He just wants to watch TV. I wake up The Girl and am overwhelmed by the smell of .. well, you can guess what she smelled like. So, now I have to shower her. I grab her while she's only half awake and throw her into the shower with me. Turn on the water and realize .... her soap is in the bathroom down the hall. I tell her not to get her hair wet because we have no time to blow dry it and to stand there without moving a muscle.

I run through the bedroom and into the kids bathroom -- buck ass naked mind you and soaking freaking wet and on the way out I slip and take the mother of all wipeouts. Wack my head against the wall and as I go down I hit a certain sensitive part of my male anatomy. At the precise moment that this occurs, my daughter -- who if you remember, is standing alone in my shower -- starts screaming her head off. So, I dust off my bruises (so to speak) and go in and there she's standing -- with a soaking wet head of hair.

Now I have to deal with the blow dryer.

I give her the fastest shower of all time, take her out and look at the clock: 7:45 am. And I have to be in the office by 9:15 for a call. And drop them off at camp between.

I start blow drying her hair and combing it and she srtarts screaming at me but I can't hear her over the din of the blowdryer. So I stop and ask her what she's saying and so help me g-d, she looks at me sternly and says, "Dad. I cannot believe you didn't use conditioner."

Well, that pretty much stopped me dead in my tracks. So we resume blowdrying and now it's the boy's turn to start screaming. I stop and race downstairs and he says to me -- no joke -- "Dad. I already saw this episode of SpongeBob. Turn on the next episode."

It was at this point that I nearly had a breakdown. I closed my eyes and tried to telepathically transport my wife from Orlando back home but that too failed.

I could go on and tell you what transpired over the next 30 minutes -- the failed breakfast, the fight in the back seat of the car that was eerily reminiscent of the Hearns-Hagler fight or the sudden onset of clinginess that struck my daughter at camp. I will spare you all these details but suffice to say it's 9:28 pm as I type these words and everyone is alive,

I made my meeting and when I got home from work tonight, I've never been so happy to see my wife.

Welcome home, love.