Brayden is having a back-to-school slumber party tonight.  Or perhaps since it is 1:37 am, I should say LAST night.  Except the girls haven’t gone to bed yet, so technically its still tonight …. right?

Whatever.

I promised her I would take them TP’ing once it got late enough.  They had a list of about seven houses (all classmates) they wanted to hit, so I decided to go to the farthest one first, then work our way back home.  But because so many of the students at our school transfer in from other districts, it took us close to two hours to do all seven houses. 

Anyway, the first house I had never been to ….. we arrived in what I hoped was the right neighborhood, in the next small town over, around 11 pm.  I was driving around, looking for a house number, hoping Brayden would recognize the house, seeing as how she and three other carloads of kids had just TP’d the exact same house the night before …. I know, clearly we’ve all discovered the joy of middle school pranks, right?

After taking two wrong turns, we finally found the correct house.  I wanted to be facing OUT of the addition when the girls were done, so I drove to the end of the block, flipped a u-ey, and turned off my head lights, driving slowly back to their target friend’s house.  As I was inching past the house, all dark and secretive and stealth like (yes, now you know where Kellen gets it)  ……….

THE GARAGE DOOR OPENED AND THE BOY’S FATHER DROVE IN FROM THE OTHER END OF THE STREET!

You should have heard the girls freaking out because “OMG Mrs. Escoe we almost got CAUGHT!!!  What if you hadn’t gotten lost?  We would have been TP’ing right at that exact moment and we would have been totes BUSTED!!!” 

Hyperventilate::giggle::squeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

It was actually pretty funny, and the fact my own blood pressure went up just a bit makes me think I must have been caught TP’ing a few times myself, in my younger days, and have simply blocked it from memory.

Ahhhhhhhh, good times.

Quote of the day:  “Kellen, there is a difference between ‘stealth’ and ‘eavesdropping’.  Eavesdropping does not make you a ninja.”

Blaine actually made it to a half day of work yesterday before bagging it and coming home …. and when he got home, he “relaxed” around the house instead of sinking into the recliner in a Phenergan-induced coma, which is pretty much where he spent all of Monday and Tuesday, covered with a Dora the Explorer blanket and eating a BRAT diet when he woke up long enough to eat anything at all.

I’m fairly certain the stomach bug was simply that, and not a side effect of radiation.  Although he e-mailed me yesterday (warning:  graphic imagery ahead and I quote:)  “Feeling better, but not 100%.  The smell and taste of burning flesh was enough to make me semi sick to my stomach during radiation.  That would be great.  Puking in my mask, on my back and not being able to roll over…asphyxiating.  This is just great stuff to experience, huh?”

The outside of his face is pretty burned so I can only imagine how the inside must feel ….. but I say if the sarcasm is making a return, he’s feeling better.

Anyway, this isn’t going to turn into an All About Blaine Blog, I promise … just that so many of you have been kind enough to ask, and keep him in your thoughts and prayers, that I wanted to be sure and update so you would know that it does, indeed, despite initial reports to the contrary, appear as though he will survive this week. 

In the meantime, the kids and I are gearing up for their back-to-school, which starts next Friday.  We have been school supply shopping (fairly painless) shoe shopping (painless for two, and one who believes you can never have too many pairs of shoes) clothes shopping (two out of three believe a closet full of t-shirts and athletic shorts is fine, which certainly makes my life easier) and backpack/messenger bag shopping (one who was only satisfied with a bag we found online and thank goodness the “3 to 6 business days” shipping time wound up being only 3 days because if I had to hear “is it coming today? today?  TODAY???” one single more time I think I would have had to start personally accosting the mailman every day.)

I’ve got one at home with an inner and outer ear infection, which means no swimming for ten days unless said child can get the hang of ear plugs …… which is probably just as good because a week of temperatures well over 100 degrees is wreaking havoc with the bacteria levels in our pool and I’m not sure anyone wants to get in there until we shock it again and get the “green” out of it, because that is just nasty and frustrating to look at   ….. one who started karate this week and even though said child is not the youngest or the smallest in the class, the cuteness is killing me …. except for that stupid belt which I cannot get the hang of tying correctly so it lies properly flat in the back, with the perfect little knot in the front, I’m sorry, Master Le, I JUST DON’T GET IT, to save my life …… and although the high today is fore-casted at 103, I am taking the kids to the local amusement park to ride roller coasters and bumper cars and we’ll probably never leave the River Rapids if that helps keep us cool, but good grief, let’s all cross our fingers that nobody gets sick like last time ….. because really, that might be the final straw that drives me to drink, but HEY, I’m not pregnant anymore, so I can now!!

The end.  (which is what bloggers type when they really have no intelligent or coherent way of wrapping up their thoughts …..)

Extreme nausea and vomiting.

He’s never had that with radiation before ….. hmmmmmmmm.

Today, he had his first round of radiation at 6:45 am.  Later that morning, he was driving, ironically, to his pain management doctor for a med refill when he said out of the clear blue, it felt like someone had shoved a red hot poker up his nose into his sinus cavity.  “Searing” and “Blinding” were the adjectives he used to describe the pain.

After his appointment, he actually lay down in his truck for a while, then went back to work.  He said only a few minutes later he started feeling incredibly nauseous, and knew pretty quickly that he wasn’t going to be able to stick it out, so he grabbed his things and headed back to his truck.

It’s one thing, when you’re 21, to puke in the parking lot of a trendy nightclub after a raucous night out with friends.  Tequila, jello shots, white man dancing, fun times for all.

It’s quite another to be 46, and puking your guts up in the parking lot at work, with one hand holding a briefcase and the other hand holding your own tie back.   Really, not so much with the fun times then. 

He actually felt poorly last night, but he had laid some sod around the pool this weekend and I just thought perhaps he overexerted himself in the heat.  Now, this is either the start of five very looooooooonnnnnnnnnggggggggg days of radiation, or hopefully we’re nearing the end of a 12 hour stomach bug, which simply unfortunately coincided with the first day of treatment.

Either way, I have a grown-man-sized ball of extreme misery in the recliner this evening …….

But at least he’s not blind, right?

I realize several of you have asked, and once again, poor Blaine and his cancer treatment have been pushed to the back burner in light of the other minor stuff (oh, like delivering a BABY) that has happened around here the past week or two.  But he is indeed starting his next round of radiation tomorrow.  He had all his repeat scans and MRIs, the “brain lab” did their magic with math and laser graphics and topography (?) maps and figuring out the best angles for treatment, and he had his radiation mask, which allows them to bolt his head to the table during treatment, made last week.  So, prep work completed.  For the final step, he and I met with his radiologist on Wednesday to discuss exactly what will happen, what should happen, what we can expect to possibly happen, and what might happen in both a best case and worst case scenario.

Clear as mud, no?

Since moving here, Blaine has worked with three different radiologists at this medical facility.  All competent, of course, but isn’t it funny how the doctor who has the most positive outlook is the one you like best?  The one we’re working with now is NOT that one. 

He walked in the room and said, “Good news.  Actually, two pieces of good news.  One, after looking at the new scans, we realize the tumor is much more focused than I initially thought, so I’m very hopeful this treatment is going to be effective in treating it.  Two, the tumor is located farther away from the optic nerve than we thought, so I don’t think Blaine’s vision is in as much jeopardy as we initially thought, either.”

Well, that’s good, because to be honest, the thought of him going blind wasn’t one we were real crazy about, and they had brought that up as a very real possibility at his last appointment.  I know there are worse disabilities out there, and plenty of blind people manage just fine, but to be completely honest with you, blindness is super-high on my personal list of fears and anxieties.

But before I could even fully exhale my probably-not-blindness-sigh-of-relief, he started in with, “So let’s talk about all the things that could go wrong, because it’s only fair and right that I prepare you for all possibilities.”  

Yeah, I get it.  Just like how when you go to the doctor to have a splinter removed from your finger, you have to sign that release of treatment form that states you understand and accept that the risks of splinter removal could include irritation, infection, pain, fever, sepsis, gangrene, metal poisoning, loss of a finger, dismemberment, disfigurement, paralysis, or even death.  I get it, I really do.  But wouldn’t it be nice if just once, just one single time, a doctor could say things were going to be fine, with no issues?

OK, so maybe that’s asking for too much.

The bad news is the tumor is much larger than they first thought.  This took us by surprise because we’ve always been told Blaine’s cancer is a very slow-growing type.   So although the tumor isn’t spread around as far and as diffused as it could be (good news) the fact it is bigger than suspected means a bigger area will be hit with radiation, which means the potential for more problems down the road (bad news.)

A large portion of his jaw and jaw muscle could (possibly) have issues later, specifically, he could lose the ability to chew, swallow, and speak.   But that’s worst case scenario, and hey, at least he’s not blind.

The temporal lobe of his brain could (possibly) have issues, resulting in memory loss and hearing loss.  Since he’s already partly deaf from previous radiation, that’s not a huge change, and the doctor thinks the memory loss will be short term and will resolve itself, IF it happens at all.  And hey, at least he’s not blind.

Increased pain will likely be an issue.  That’s always fun.

As always with radiation, fatigue is likely, but that only lasts a short while and is manageable.

The tumor is near the carotid artery, and if it gets hit by radiation, it could (possibly) cause a weakened area.  Here I quote the doctor:  “Worst case, you could at some point in the future suffer a carotid aneurysm, but the good news about that is you would be dead instantly with no pain or suffering.  You’d never know what hit you.”   OK, thanks.  That’s encouraging.

And at least he’s not blind ……  right …… ???

When the doctor was finished delivering his message of cheer, he just sort of sat there and looked at us, awaiting our reaction.  We asked a few questions, the primary one being about how all these possibilities are only MAYBE happening, right?  None of this stuff is definite, right?  There is a chance he could sail through radiation without any problems at all, right?  And the doctor said he would be surprised if absolutely NOTHING happened, but that yes, it was a possibility.  Then we asked how long before these potential issues show themselves?  Answer, six months to two years. 

Then Blaine sort of paused and said, “Well, it’s not like I have a choice, so I guess we start treatment on Monday.”

And the doctor said, “Oh, there is always a choice about whether or not to treat, but that choice is not one I can make for you.  You would have to decide not to treat on your own.  But yes, that is an option.”

And I was sitting in my chair, thinking to myself, “Wow, buddy, thanks for the words of encouragement.”

Blaine replied, “As long as I have a treatment option, I don’t feel as though I have a choice, so let’s go ahead and start on Monday.”

When the doctor left the exam room to schedule the first round, Blaine and I just looked at each other. 

I’m so grateful I didn’t marry a quitter.  Or a coward.

Now give us those flipping release of treatment forms to sign.  But in the meantime, we’re still crossing our fingers that NONE of those things come to pass.  Because if you’re going to wish, wish big, right?

First 24 hours after delivery:  I was on magnesium in the hospital, for the high blood pressure, which is a natural sedative.  I slept a lot.  A LOT.  It was like being a teenager again, only no annoying mom yelling at me to quit being such a sluggo and get out of bed.  (For the record, my mom never yelled at me to get out of bed because I was never one of those teenagers who slept until noon ….. but if I had been, I think Saturday is what it would have felt like.)

Second 24 hours after delivery:  Natural endorphin rush kicks in.  I’m still swollen, but I get out of bed, shower, food tastes fantastic, and I RELISH being reunited with my beloved Diet Dr. Pepper.  Spend time visiting with baby, who is flipping adorable, and her family.  Life is fab.

Third 24 hours after delivery:  Still on an endorphin high, but must admit feeling a bit fatigued.  Was hoping to come home and rest, but really wiped out after being released, then having to return to the hospital for practically the entire day to correct a birth certificate error. 

Fourth 24 hours after delivery:  Perhaps overdid it a bit.  Hosted the baby and her family for a cook out before they returned home.  Grateful for a mom who could come, and especially come early to help prepare the food.  Out of breath walking from the kitchen to the den ….. and just think, I don’t have a baby to take care of …..

Fifth 24 hours after delivery:  I am SO grateful that I have never suffered from post-partum depression, or even “baby blues” …. but must admit being a bit tearful today.  Teared up in the radiologist’s office, discussing Blaine’s upcoming treatment and possible side effects ….. then flat-out cried at Ramona and Beezus.   The good news?  I’ve lost 30 pounds since my appointment on Friday; most of it water weight.  The bad news?  I have many, many, MANY more pounds to go.  Fear that breasts, full of milk, will suffocate me in my sleep.

Sixth 24 hours after delivery:  Endorphin rush is gone.  Back to reality.  If these kids cannot act any better than this I swear I will rip their little heads off and put them in time-out forever.    Now, how’s *that* for promoting my Loving Mother Image????

I’ve had many kind words spoken to me over the course of this pregnancy ….. people seem to respond really well to surrogate situations and are almost always supportive and encouraging.  I thought I would share two of the kindest,and clearly most heartfelt, which have taken place over the course of the last 24 hours here at the hospital.

The first, spoken by one of my own children:   “I don’t know, Mom, that shower in there is pretty small …. I’m not sure you can fit in there.”

And the second, spoken by one of my darling nephews, who I love more than life itself, “Wow, Aunt Kristie, I thought after you had a baby your stomach would be a lot smaller than that.”

Yep.  Love those kids.

I know!!   For me, Queen of the Induction at 42 weeks, this little blessing, delivered at 39 weeks and 5 days, was practically premature.  But since she weighed in at 8 pounds and 1 ounce, and was 21 1/2 inches long, I guess we’ll let it go. 

Technnically, we didn’t plan to deliver.  I went for an OB appt yesterday afternoon.  I had gained six pounds in one week (pretty much all of it in my big fat feet) I had a teeny tiny trace of protien in my urine, and my blood pressure was high.  The midwife checked me and I was already dilated to four, so she diagnosed me with “possibly, maybe, we can’t be sure but let’s just move forward to avoid it, pre-eclampsia” and we headed over to the hospital for an induction.   Talk about ill-prepared … I had nothing.  No bag, no clothes, nothing.  It was the first time in my life I delivered without new, clean, white socks, which is a sort of a superstition for me, and delivered this baby BAREFOOT heaven forbid.

I’ll share more details later, but what matters in the end is that the baby is beautiful, the parents are on cloud nine, epidurals are a gift from God, and I am eagerly awaiting my chicken salad croissant from room service, as I type this.

Ahhhhhhh, a blessed day all around. 

In labor. Thank you, SBJ, for pain meds.

Most of my surrogacy story will not be shared, out of respect for the privacy of the baby’s family.  Something happened today that made me laugh out loud, though, and I feel compelled to share, in a completely patronizing, condescending way.

The parents arrived last night in anticipation of our Monday due date ….. I’ve never gone into spontaneous labor before my due date before, but its good to know I can officially uncross my legs now and whatever happens, happens.

With any gestational surrogate delivery (remember, I am not biologically related to this child, so its not an adoption ….) there are certain legal matters that must be taken care of at the hospital — paternity affidavits, birth certificate details, room details, etc.  In addition, I have never delivered a baby in OK, specifically at this hospital, so we figured we might as well take the tour of the hospital labor & delivery department at the same time.

So there we were this afternoon, me, the baby’s mother, father, and about eight other couples.  No idea what anyone thought of the three of us …. polygamists?  Unwed mother?  Who knows?  But we were walking around with one of the nurses, touring the facility, me primarily thinking they needed more public restrooms on that floor (shocker, I know.)

We got into an actual labor & delivery room, and the nurse was explaining what would happen once we arrived, were checked in, triaged, and made it to the room.  Blood would be drawn, hep locks started, etc.  Then she showed everyone the private bathrooms, complete with two-person “birthing tub” and the baby’s mom looked at me and whispered, “I sure hope you don’t plan on me getting in there with you …..” and of course, we laughed.   Then the nurse was showing everyone the birthing balls, and bars, and all the other stuff for women who are much more into “natural” delivery than I am.  I leaned over to my couple and whispered, “I don’t need any of that crap.  Just give me my epidural when I show up and we’re good.” 

Right on cue, the nurse asked the group at large, “For how many of you will this be your first delivery?”

Every single mother-to-be in the group, but me, raised her hand.

Then the nurse asked, “How many of you are planning to have an epidural?”

My lone hand shot up in the air.

All the other pregnant women just looked at me ….. like I was the world’s biggest wimp. **

I just laughed out loud and said, “Hey, I’ve done this before.  Several times.  And trust me, I’m getting the epidural.”

**FWIW, I have complete respect for med-free deliveries.  *IF* that’s what you want, and *IF* your body delivers relatively quickly, and *IF* you have a high pain tolerance.   It just so happens that NONE of those qualities apply to me.  I have *NO* interest in delivering without, my body does *NOT* labor and deliver quickly, and I do *NOT* have a high pain tolerance.

But it still made me laugh, and I have to wonder what all the other pregnant women thought of the polygamist in the corner, the lone holdout for pain medication.