I didn't expect to feel such emotion--elation really--as the electronic IV dispenser ticked down the final hour of chemotherapy.
No more chemotherapy!
Perhaps these next two weeks will be a series of farewells to a list of challenges I hope Tali will be experiencing for the last time.
On a day of grateful goodbyes to chemo, I enjoyed spending time with Talitha as she moved comfortably from room to room in the room. (She sure is developing an imagination!)
During one of her visits to the "crib room", she asked for the stethoscope.
Each morning when the doctors make their rounds, it's not enough that one of them perform the stethoscope examination on behalf of the entire group. Oh no; they each feel the mandatory urge to take a listen.
Then of course throughout the day, "vitals" must be taken constantly to ensure that Talitha isn't faking being alive.
I hesitate to guess how many times since December 22, 2009 a doctor, specialist, resident, nurse-practitioner, charge nurse, regular nurse, or technician have popped that little device in their ears and advanced on poor, unsuspecting Talitha.
Well, as you can see, she won't be outdone now.
Hospital staff beware: Talitha just figured out how to don a stethoscope and may just want to go after your vitals for a change!