Wacky Wednesday – Germaphobia!

Since this blog sat on my to do list for a while as I was busy living this life and journey, I’ve started out writing about the past. Most of it is pretty ugly. Breast Cancer isn’t really very funny. Parenthood, however, I will admit can be really really funny. And I do try to laugh at myself as often as possible. When you combine That Girl, That Guy, and My Girls, you get a pretty Wacky life. When I was a child, probably when I was learning to read, one of my favorite books was “Wacky Wednesday” by Dr. Seuss. Since we constantly talk about how wacky my oldest is, my Wednesday posts will be sharing what I think are pretty Wacky stories, quotes, and silliness from our lives. Enjoy!

Prior to my first chemotherapy infusion, I had met with someone in the oncologist’s office. I was pretty nervous about the whole thing as it was brand new to me and I had no idea what to expect. Friends had told me stories about their friends and family and some of the pictures they painted were really awful. So there I sit, telling her how nervous I am and she is going on about how my blood levels may dip so low that I won’t be able to leave the house for the next six months and if I do I will have to wear a mask and so on. I was not expecting to feel well enough to go do anything significant, but I was not expecting full on house arrest, either. I was not feeling any more relaxed about what to expect when I left to get my infusion that afternoon.

Having a newborn, it wasn’t too much of a concern about getting out and about those first couple of weeks, but eventually we needed diapers! And wipes! So I felt terrible for a couple days the first week of my infusion. Overall, though, I felt like I was bouncing back and as I went in for my check up 10 days after my infusion, I was all set to take the kids out to run a couple of errands once I got my levels check and the ok to do so. So that is what I thought was going to happen. I am young. I am relatively healthy. I had this. Or so I thought. As I was going through my first cycle, my white blood cells dropped, as they were expected to do, but when I went to my Nadir appointment I found out they were not good. In my non-medical professional words, Nadir is the lowest point your blood counts should reach and I was scheduled to check in at the office to see how I was doing during that Nadir period. You can find more information here. I had a slight sniffle and scratchy throat. I was prescribed antibiotics and we went over things I needed to be aware of and more careful about. I asked if I could still run errands with the kids and my mom. I was told it was ok since I would have my mom along to touch/push the cart, open doors, go into the restroom with That Little Girl, and all those other germy things.

I don’t think I have ever been so excited to go to Target in my entire life. This portion of our trip was pretty uneventful. My mom touched the cart. I picked up my prescription. Nary a cough or sneeze were heard for miles. Next stop was the baby stuff box store. We had some unnecessary premie clothes to return, diapers to buy, and it seemed like an easy mission. My mom did the returns with That Baby. That Little Girl and I took off for the back of the store to get diapers. Just as I pick up the diapers, for the only time we split up during the whole trip, That Little Girl says, “I have to go to the potty. I have to go NOW! I can’t walk or it will come out. Pick me UUUPPPPPPP!”

So I do what anyone would do in that situation, I panic. I glanced toward the front of the store. My mom has her back to me and there is no way we can make it all the way up there and then they can get back to the restroom. I told her she had to walk or run. And off we went. I thought we can do this, just calm down. We went in the stall, I hang up the diaper bag. I grabbed That Little Girl’s purse and put it on top of the diaper bag. Just as I turn around, it falls to the floor. Into a puddle. Next to the potty. It was not a puddle of water.

Perfect! So I grab a wipe to use to pick up the purse and (luckily only) a few of the contents that had come out. As I do, I feel my sunglasses start to slide off the top of my head. Splat. Into the puddle. My brand new sunglasses. The ones that go on MY FACE! Now lying in some failing potty training child’s urine on the floor of the public restroom. Another couple of wipes. The last ones. I pick them up. Ok, now, she can finally go potty. Of course, the seat is covered in urine. I wrap my hand in five layers of toilet paper. Still soaks through. Nope, not kidding. Finally, up on the potty, teaching the art of hovering as I hold her and we don’t touch.

Out we go to wash up. I wash quite a few times. I wash her hands quite a few times. I look for the hand towels. Empty. As I grab the handle on the door to leave, I realize I should probably carry two packages of wipes, diaper and sanitizing, at all times on my person. We came down the aisle to my mom looking confused and then giggling as I told her the story. Walking over to the diapers, I couldn’t help but wonder if the antibiotic would cover whatever it was I had just encountered in that debacle! Luckily, there were more sanitizing wipes in the car.