Treatment begins

Dad and Linda just left for Dad's first radiation treatment. He was as jolly as a person could be on the morning of the first day of fighting brain cancer. "I slept really great last night!" he said on his way to walk Anna to her bus stop. He commented on how cute she was, her thick hair and came back to the house and picked up Charlotte for a hug and kissed MJ. Nice way to start the day.

He's taken two chemo pills already and so far had no side effects (which is pretty incredible in my mind since that stuff is so toxic that the doctors warned us to not even *touch* the pills). I'm sure down the road he'll get tired and maybe feel sick, but obviously we're hoping side effects are minimal and his physicians don't foresee any major problems.

His communication has improved, although he's definitely been frustrated at times. We all take for granted how easy our day-to-day lives are when we can clearly speak about our needs and understand others. As he tries to do his bills and take care of "maintenance living" issues, as I call them, he often hits a breaking point. Linda has been incredibly patient and caring. I'm in awe as I watch both Linda and Heather interact with Dad. They're so compassionate, gentle and upbeat. Living with four extra people in our modestly sized house can be a challenge. But we seem to be doing fine. Oh, I gotta mention Scott and his contribution to the controlled chaos in the Bauer household. Nothing like his sense of humor to get me through the day.

I can't deny that the Type A part of me looks around my messy house as I step in sticky lemonade on my kitchen floor and tenses up a bit. But then we come to this day, Day One of radiation and chemo together -- I see Dad's smile as he takes Anna to the bus stop and hugs MJ and Charlotte, I know the short drive to UW hospitals and their competent staff is nothing like the hour trek from his house to Cleveland Clinic, and I remember how lucky we are to be together on this journey.