Oh my days, my feet!

Chemo five has come and gone and Chemo six was today.
Round five took us into the new chemo cocktail and into Spring. Into the world of weirdly, but temporarily, painful feet. Took me from the season of the ski and into the season of the mountain bike. I feel that it's been so long since I last wrote that I don't quite know where to begin. Thus, I will attempt a photo essay of the last three weeks.

Photo above? Mine and Hayley's feet during a picnic and hike. This was my lowest day. Pretty good for a low day, isn't it? But dang, my feet hurt.

Chemo five introduced me to a new chemotherapy called Paclitaxel. This one, my nurses told me, is known to "feel like you've been hit by a truck on day 3 and 4." By this, I think they refer to the bone pain that I've read about. Paclitaxel is also known to contribute to neuropathy, a condition where you lose the feeling in your fingers and toes. Some people experience it to greater degrees than others. Some people have it forever.

Nothing to worry about, you know, this new chemo. This one, my Doctor's told me, is the easier one.

I was kind of nervous going in.

And it was kind of o'kay. None of the weird grogginess or drunkeness of the first chemo. None of the utter tiredness. None of the nausea. Pro!

Con? While I wasn't hit by a truck on day three and four I did get the strangest pain in my feet. No other symptoms, just quite painful feet that disturbed my sleep for two days and wouldn't be cut by my prescribed pain killers. It felt like I'd jumped from a height and landed flat on my feet. You know that throbbing pain? Mountain Dad has no idea what I'm talking about, but most others do. It hurt to rest and to walk, so I chose to keep walking. And the pain was gone by day five.

The last skidoo of the season was also one of the low days. I got to cosy up in the skimmer again and bump along behind the skidoo with one of my kids on my lap. Sounds uncomfortable but really quite soul filling! Picnic lunch behind Fish Lake and a bumpy, exhaust-filled ride back to the car.

He didn't actually drive. Hayley and Mountain Dad were our pilots of the day.

Sunday Fish Feast at Marsh Lake. Celebrating the ridiculously epic fish catch of good friends (who had borrowed our skidoo and wall tent for the trip, hence we had to be special guests at Fish Feast, for if it weren't for us....). Good food. Good friends. Good times on the last of the ice on the lake. Mountain Dad and Mountain Kid rocking on the kick-sled's.

And the first paddle of the year in the small puddle that Marsh Lake has relinquished from the ice. One Dad. Seven kids. No PFD's. 

Much safer. Boat races with kids in boats on TOP of ice. Mountain Dad reflected that maybe he was taking it too seriously. Despite having the lighter boat with less children within, he ran so hard and fast he felt that his team-mate Steve was just carrying slack rope and trying to keep up.
Not sure if this is just a tall fisherman's tale or has an element of truth to it. 

You decide. I submit above photo as evidence.

Official last ski of the season with my very game friend, Helen. We had to hike a bit to get to the snow and then carry our ski's over a few areas of mud, but it was still a very satisfying final ski.
I do think we're done now. I officially welcome Spring and cede Winter.
 A few days later, Helen and I went for our first Mountain Bike Ride.
I'm not sure it gets much better than that.

Now there's a PRO in my life, nay TWO PRO's!! Not sure why we need head protection inside the house, but he does take these things seriously. 

Learning to ride his first pedal bike. It has a bar attached to the back that I can hold to steady him, though he quickly tells me to "WET GO!" We loop the block like this, me sprinting behind, heart in mouth, calling out "Be aware! Be aware!" because I hope that it is something he will actually listen to and heed as opposed to utterly ignore the advice I call out in the form of "Be careful!" Substituting one anxious remark for another? Not at all. Totally different this one. Be aware, this will change my children's responsiveness to my advice. Or it will just add variety to the soundtrack of Mama-rants that feel like I deliver into a vacuum. Can anyone hear me? Dinner is ready!!

But then Mother's Day rolls around and they redeem themselves...

LOX - "This is me an' Mama wif a coffee cause Mama WUV'S coffee."

ME - "And this is me and Adelaide and I'm bald because of the chemo medicine and Adelaide is on my lap and bald because she is being like Mum. That's so sweet baby!"

ADELAIDE (clearly irritated) - "NOOOOOO! I just didn't have TIME to draw my HAIR-YA!"

Well, mostly redeemed, Little Laide. 

From Winter to Spring. Chemo five to six. We tick along, with a lovely rhythm and really feel quite lucky for all of this.