Alice Cooper . . . Crazy, But Perfect

The last week has been a bit crazy.  The main reason?  I started another round of chemotherapy.  When did I start it?  Tuesday afternoon, the day before 8th grade graduation for the students at Marion School.  I am very happy to say that I made it through the entire graduation without feeling the need to lose my lunch or crying (only tearing up), seeing some of the students that I have taught for three years in science leave and head off to high school.

I am not ashamed to say that I crashed that night.  I literally slept in the dress I wore to graduation for awhile, before my eyes sealed up by dried up contacts woke me up.  The next day I went back to work, the last full day of the school year.  Unfortunately this time I went back with a cold.  Ugh. 

The last time I had a cold, it was not during one of the weeks that I was undergoing chemo; this time it was.  As a result, instead of getting better, I got worse.  A lot worse.  I left school that day practically the same time as the kids I was so wiped out.  The one positive thing about this is that after talking to Dr. Wagner, he decided to take me off this week of chemo a couple days early so that my body could actually fight off the virus more effectively.  Sure enough, two days later, except for a drippy nose I am now feeling back to normal.  

I also have had another set of blood work done (the same day as 8th grade graduation; needless to say, that was one crazy day).  They have been drawing and checking my blood work every two weeks, and it always came back really good.  Almost like I was a normal person not undergoing chemo; but all three doctors agreed (the world must be ending soon if three doctors agree on something) that my results must be contaminated or inaccurate if I was continuing to get those abnormally good results.  Their solution was to test me more . . . five drawings of blood in one sitting instead of one, from locations other than my arm, and doing the two tests my blood normally goes through ten times instead of two times.  The results were still good enough that one of the nurses who drew the blood told me I should join Marvel Comics as the next superhero.  I'm afraid that I do not feel like only wearing spandex and a cape, so I will stick with teaching as my career.  On second thought, I wonder if tight fitting black clothing is as flattering as a good black dress . . .