>Drip, drip, drip. Goes the water.

8 Sep

>Surreal doesn’t even begin to describe it. Sitting here with the hubby. At the chemo infusion cocktail lounge. Loading up on the F-U Cancer (today’s special). Looking out the huge picture windows at our beautiful Rocky Mountains. As they burn. And burn.

In the words of one friend (via Facebook) today, “Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?”

I am not the kind of person to overly dwell. I’m cynical and sarcastic, but I don’t like to let things get me down. So today was yet another test of my mettle I suppose. And when I say test, what I really mean is BEING REPEATEDLY HIT OVER THE HEAD WITH A LARGE HEAVY OBJECT.

Watching the poison drip straight into the hubby while texting with the (former) b-partner who was evacuated. Keeping tabs on the haps via the nifty online fire/police scanner that is just serving to fuel my OCD. I even heard them reference said b-partner, “We have a Sunshine Canyon resident here from [insert b-partner’s address] who lives 200 yards from the road block, asking for access to the residence.” I texted her, “I hear you trying to stir up trouble on the scanner.” It was strange. She was waiting for the answer as she pleaded to get back into her home and I heard the answer before she did. “Not authorized.”

The theme of the day. Those firefighters are working their asses off. I quote our sheriff, “We have literally exhausted our local resources. Pray for rain.”

The latest online update from our Boulder paper reads:

“It is zero-percent contained, and a federal “Type 1” incident management team — which is the same level that responded to Hurricane Katrina — will arrive Wednesday to help the firefighting effort.” 

Read more: Fourmile Fire… 92 structures lost, 8 damaged – Boulder Daily Camera

So when you’re husband is going through chemo for Stage III rectal cancer and then your town catches on fire, I wonder…is it time to start writing an effin country music song?

As I previously reported, we L-I-V-E-D for the last week or so. Did the normal and savored it. Like the sweet and savory morsel of goodness it was. Went to lunch, hubby hosted a guy’s night AND COOKED ALL THE FOOD FOR IT HIMSELF. I spent some time with friends, hanging and talking and enjoying wine. Then we packed up and headed straight to the mountains the minute the school’s out bell rang on Friday. Bikes loaded, cooler packed and we headed west.

The weekend was magical. The hubby’s awesome cousin and her husband have been so gracious in sharing their vaca home with us in Winter Park. It’s been like an oasis when we are most craving some real fam time in the midst of the cancer storm.

So we kicked off the weekend with a table for 15 at Hernando’s (a mandatory stop). Turns out that quite a large number of other Mesa Elementary fams like the same hot spots. It was fun. Normal. Laughing, beer and pizza. Bean and I made friends with the manager (she used her long eyelashes and new pink Uggs to weasel a free order of cheesy bread).

The rest of the weekend was low key. Just us. We went for a long bike ride on Saturday with the hubby pulling bean on the tag-a-long AND NO MISHAPS. And, I hate to admit, it was on a real trail. I am the most uncoordinated person on Earth.

We had a great dinner at Alberto’s, played cards, soaked in the hot tub, went for a hike, listened to live music, and watched the Milky Way from the deck with a glass of wine. Like I said, magical.(Maybe I have the makings of yet another song.)

Unwillingly, we returned to reality. And it was during that return that this forever-tuned-in-spasmo-techno-headcase finally got cell and internet service on the handy iPhone and started hearing the reports. Boulder on fire. Or seeming to be.

So between texts from T-Man, Facebook with Steph (who was about an hour ahead of us on the road) and Sarah and tweets from @epiccolorado, I started to piece it all together. And panic. (A little.)

When we rounded that first corner into Golden, the smoke was already visible and it was like driving straight into Armageddon. [Cue the locusts.]

So symbolism was not lost. Our weekend idyll abruptly shut down. We floated back down with a thud. Which we’d expected. But just because the hubby was heading back into his own personal chemo hell today. NOT because we’d have friends fleeing from their burning homes and packing in preparation for fire racing down the mountain and watching spouses go missing and more houses up in flames on news broadcast after news broadcast.

But that’s the reality. And that’s the perspective changer. Yes, we are going through something that is HARD. But hardships abound (all around us in fact) and we don’t have a lock on it. We just had one freaking great week and weekend and even had Comida for lunch today and I can’t find a thing to complain about.

(Well, except for the fact that the whirring shitstorm chemo pump, FU-FU, is back and he’s already really tired and heading downhill. And can’t even hold a block of cheese to grate it because it’s too cold to hold. And, oh yea, has tingling and pain in his fingers, jaw and throat. And it’s only been a few short hours past the FU infusion.)

Time to knuckle down and face the music. (I’ll try not to sing too loud once I get those lyrics down.)

TODAY’S THEME SONG: You Never Even Called Me By My Name. David Allan Coe. So I’ll hang around as long as you will let me. And I never minded standin’ in the rain.

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