Leftover V-Day pics

I always crack up at my blog statistics when I'm waiting for test results. Instead of 150-200ish hits a day, they jump to something along the lines of 800ish as all of my friends wait for results along with me. (And, for the record, I never check blog statistics; they show up automatically in my set-up.) Anyway, feel free to go about your regular schedule because I won't know anything until Monday. Ish.

I think I mentioned before that Dr. W changed offices/hospitals. What I might not have mentioned is that out of approximately 15 staff members, only 3 made the switch with him so, as you can imagine, it's quite a different scene these days. All of what made going to an oncologist palatable is not there anymore. No one knows me. There's no chit chat with the receptionist, scheduler, nurses, techs, etc. All my favorite people are gone, although the new nurse I met yesterday has promise. She was very sweet and kind and actually said to me on the way out that she hoped she didn't see me again any time soon. And that's the best kind of goodbye when leaving an oncologist's office.

Yesterday was one of those strange days when the waiting room was full of old people. And I don't mean like fun people whose age mean nothing. I'm talking about 70ish where they look and act every bit their age. (And let me just apologize now to all the sweet older people in my life.) I get pity looks every time I'm at the office, but when the waiting room (and chemo room, by the way) is full of patients who are my senior by 25+ years, it's just reiterates how strange this all is even after almost 2 years. And something that happens every time? They love my hair. I mean, LOVE my hair. And I'm just never sure if it's quite a compliment or not when they want to know if it's real or a wig. And is really all that fabulous that my style seems to appeal to the 70+ crowd? Such an ego booster.

One of my original chemo buddies (there were 4 of us total) begins treatment today for ovarian cancer found on her liver last month. Don't ask me how you can still have ovarian cancer when there are no ovaries left, but that's just how it works somehow. She is a sweet, sweet lady who never failed to oooh and ahhh over Camden and Rory's picture, and I am thinking of her today. And I am thankful for the new nurse because I know she is going to be of great comfort to Emily. Have I mentioned that out of the 4 of us, only 1 is cancer-free 2 years later? Not too encouraging, right?

I have finally managed to catch Rory's massive cold and am miserable so I have a date with the kleenex box on my couch and my DVR. Poor Brian caught it as well, but as usual he survives with a sniffle while I end up with a full-on fever, sore throat, can't breathe, red Rudolph nose. It's a good thing he has a great immune system because he still had to go teach a group of snotty-nosed 4th graders today. ;)

And a few pictures leftover from last week (because I haven't taken a single shot in the last 2 days).

I thought Camden's Valentine's Day box deserved a picture from the real camera. And don't you love those dirty knees. Thank heavens that a soak in hot water and a scoop of The Biz works magic on those pants every single time.

Did I mention he won first place?

This massive box of chocolate was his reward. I haven't dropped the bomb on him yet that there's no way I'm letting him eat all that. I'm hoping the suggestion that we chop it up and make some cookies will be acceptable.

And Rory from the same day. Can you believe that not only did I not make cute Valentine's Day cards for her to give away, but I didn't even dress her up in red or pink? There's always next year.