This was my husband's status update on Facebook today: 5am wake-up call by a 6 month old with a serious case of the Mondays, a championship caliber blow-out on the way to daycare, and the wifey at the doctors testing for a leaky chemo port - all by 8:30am. This is not what I call a good start to the week.
Luckily, my chemo port is working just fine. My oncologist sent me to have it tested because I felt some burning around the site as the nurses were flushing it with saline after my Herceptin treatment last Friday - like you would expect if you poured salt in a wound. Problem is, I'm not supposed to feel anything. To test the port, they inject a dye agent into it, then take x-rays to see where the dye goes. On mine, the fluid went straight into my heart, just like it's supposed to; there were no leaks. The doctors blamed the pain I felt on residual tenderness from when the port was placed 2.5 weeks ago.
And our little guy went to bed at 5 this evening. He fell asleep in my arms in our rocking chair, and I snoozed for a little bit with him softly snoring on my chest. This came after he had another, more minor-caliber, blow-out at daycare (he's working on setting the record for number of outfit changes in a day). And he still hasn't kicked the sniffles that hit him two weeks ago. I blame teething.
To top our Monday off, I spiked a low-grade fever around 6 o'clock, but two Tylenol and two liters of water later, and it appears to have subsided. Just in case, Chris has me checking my temp every hour (which is about how often I have to pee now, anyway).
Good news is, it's almost Tuesday.