Oh, the Irony of it All

I'm b-a-c-k.


Our family decided to take a hiatus and head to the beach for a Spring Break.
Everyone has been feeling the stress of my illness, and I thought a diversion would offer a welcomed change of pace.


I only had three requirements:
1) it had to be within a few hour's drive;
2) I needed a frontal, ocean view; and
3) we had to have an indoor pool.
It's always too cold to enjoy the beach this time of year.
Turns out, we had perfect weather: 20 degrees warmer than usual. So we spent more time than expected, outdoors and without proper beach accoutrements.

To complicate matters, days before our trip, our 12 year-old, announced that he wanted to become a vegetarian. We took him with us anyway. He was fairly successful most of the time, ordering: mac and cheese; salads; baked potato; veggie burger; McDonald's double meat cheese burger, apple sauce and cheese pizza.
Hey, I said most of the time.

Speaking of food, one of the popular Ocean City Boardwalk eateries is Thrasher's Fries. People buy them by the cup-, Super-sized cup-, and bucket-full. They are served hot and delicious, the way real fried potatoes would taste if you left the skin on, thinly sliced, fried and salted them yourself.

But after four days of vacation with three kids, you can only imagine the number of fries (and the amount of fried food) we'd consumed.
As soon as we pulled into the Sonic Drive-In, I promptly proclaimed:
"I don't want to look at or smell a French fry on the way home!"
No one ordered fries, but Jeff ordered tater tots.
I wound up eating them because I thought my Sonic burger was disgusting.
Blame it on the chemo.


While at that Sonic in Bridgeville, Delaware (don't try to find it on your GPS) I heard,
"Deneitra!"
And no, it wasn't Jeff's voice.
Turns out...
"It's Jennifer."
Why of course it is, I thought.
We probably live five minutes apart in a Maryland suburb; used-to work out at a local fitness center and have at least one mutual friend. Yet, I haven't seen Jennifer in nearly two years. Who else could it be in the middle of NoWhere, USA?


My physician's assistant tried to talk me out of going on a trip. She was concerned that with my low, white blood (cell) count, I might get sick and be too far from home.
I assured her that there were plenty of hospitals between Baltimore and the Eastern Shore and that I would make my way to one of them, if such a need were to arise.

Turns out that during our stay, I came down with a slight infection.
Now I'm on antibiotics.


As long as my schedule doesn't slide, I'll be ready for my final six treatments, beginning next Friday.


Now that I've put it out there, I hope I haven't jinxed myself.