I'm ashamed to admit that my first thought upon opening my eyes this morning and reentering the world of light and life was not, "Hey, it's my son's tenth birthday!!!" but rather it was, "Oh, chemo."
I lay there for a short while. After I had slowly crawled out of my own ego, John and I walked downstairs and sang Grant awake.
Later, after taking the boys to school, Brandy drove me to chemo. It was, thankfully, uneventful. Grandma came over for Chinese food and cake. At the end of the night, Grant popped balloon number nine. He's no longer nine. I'm no longer stuck at nine. These two events, his birthday and my chemo, will be inextricably linked in my memory for as long as I live.