Tales of my second go-round with breast cancer before the age of 40.
A chronicle—sometimes raw, sometimes reflective, always irreverent—of a life upended by a long shot and of the daily indignities and tiny victories that comprise it.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
5 Signs That My Dad is Feeling Better
Before we arrived for visiting hours, he'd already made the trip (with lots of help) from bed to chair and had eaten both applesauce and Jell-o.
Despite being in ICU, he told us more than once that he's ready to go home.
He asked for 28 Diet Cokes. Not 27. Not 29. Twenty-eight.
He turned his nose up at the various purées he was served at lunch and dinner—chicken, beef, carrots, peas, and potatoes—but he ate three dishes of pudding with no trouble at all.
When we left, he was tuning into the Yankees game.
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