We've made it to the final week of chemotherapy. We both can't believe that we're finally here. It seems like a long time ago that I was sitting in the hospital waiting room as Dr. Zimmerman was slowly removing that bastard of a tumor bit by bit. It's been one helluva journey and a road that we both wish we didn't have to travel down, but are relieved that the finish line is within sight. We really could not have done it without all the incredible support of our family and friends (if you're reading this, smile because I'm talking about you).
Jill's blood work was again better than it's ever been. Her white blood cell count was 9.something and her hematocrit was 44. Once again Dr. Porter asked what she was doing and we answered "It must have been the Sangria we had with dinner" Last nights chemo session went just fine as we were both exhausted and fell asleep to the soothing sounds of peeping baby chickens. Yes, we now have chickens. Two Rhode Island Reds (Lucy and Mopje (pronounced Mope-Yea), one Americauna (Fluff Head), and one Jersey Black Giant (La-fawn-duh). The four should have enough egg laying power to provide us with a dozed eggs per week. Right now they are cute little fuzz balls that love to run around the greenhouse (as the floor is only gravel and grass right now). Leo is going nuts trying to figure out what's going on. He wants to put them in his mouth and make them squeak just like his toys. Pretty soon we'll be getting a cow, some pigs, and an ox to help me plow the wheat fields.
The Big Sur Marathon is coming up quick and it's going to be really emotional for both of us when Jill crosses that finish line. The marathon is a literal metaphor representing Jill's fight. Cancer is not going to slow her down and training and running this marathon is proof of that.
