Happy Mother’s Day & I Do Not Say That Lightly

Because every one of you—male, female, friend, cousin, coworker, neighbor, whatever label fits—has mothered me in some way over the past few months. You’ve checked in, dropped off food, sent texts, made me laugh when I wanted to scream, and wrapped me in care that I didn’t even know I needed.

You’ve shown up as listeners, problem solvers, snack deliverers, sarcasm experts, and early morning lifelines. That’s a lot of nurturing energy, and today feels like the right day to honor all of it.

So this year, Mother’s Day isn’t just for the moms. It’s for the mothering. And I am so lucky to be surrounded by it.

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CHEMO 5: Ground ZERO

EpiPens, Salmon, and the Search for a License

Let’s not bury the lead—because Terry said it best. Here’s his text from the group chat that pretty much nails it:

“JJ was her normal determined self yesterday and I learned a lot about the difference between non-stop and direct flights. She knows a lot of things. More than her nurses I think…

She also had an allergic reaction on top of it all and had succulent blown up lips that I thought looked great, but we got to see her self-administer an EpiPen injection on the way home as we tried to find Cappy’s license (helpful to have when flying).

A solid roller coaster day with an absolute sh*t reason to be together but best company you can ask for. 

Hope our lady is feeling ok today – I’m sure she’s not, but she handles it better than anyone. She’s a stone cold killer and grinding away at this chemo crap. 5 down, 1 to go until surgery.”

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And now, the backstory:

This was Chemo Round 5. One more to go—May 27—before surgery on June 24. I do my usual thing: order lunch mid-infusion, keep the vibe chill, pretend I’m not on a cocktail of meds that could dissolve concrete.

I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich from a Jewish deli in Needham that had great reviews.
If you didn’t know—I’m allergic to salmon.
✔  Yes, I carry an EpiPen.
✔  Yes, I know you probably have never heard of someone being allergic to salmon.
✔  Yes, I’ve heard that a million times.

But put it in the books: I am allergic to salmon. Moving on.

Well, let’s just say they must also grill salmon sandwiches—because there was definitely cross-contamination.

Halfway through my sandwich, my lips went full Real Housewives.  It looked like I’d lined them with a Sharpie after three martinis—ask Chip for the full joke, he’s got the punchline.

I casually told the nurses, “Hey, I think I’m reacting to something,” and their response?

“Well, it’s not the chemo. This is your fifth session.”

Basically: not their problem.

I shrugged and said, “Probably just the chicken,” and iced my face like I was prepping for a wedding photo.

Then I asked, “Can I give myself my EpiPen?”

Their answer:

“Hell no. Absolutely not.”

Also followed by the look that said: “But also please don’t make this our problem right now.”

So I sat there. Lips swelling. Face flushing. Just waiting out my final bag of chemo like it was a casual Tuesday.

Port needle removed, Neulasta patch on, and as soon as it ended, I looked at Terry and said:

“I have to give myself the EpiPen. They just didn’t want me doing it in there because you can’t self-administer your own meds. But we’re out. Let’s go.”

So there I was, stabbing myself in the thigh with an EpiPen in the Dana-Farber parking garage, while simultaneously trying to rebook Benji’s flight because his license was missing.

(Which you do need to fly, in case anyone forgot.)

Terry checked Jay’s wallet.
Jay checked his wallet.
I unpacked an entire suitcase and sorted through every single pair of pants.

And based on how many he packed, I’m guessing he planned to move in for a full year.

In the end, he’s grinning in the back seat like the Joker, holding up his license.

Seriously.

Not only am I running on fumes from chemo, I’m now jacked up on epinephrine—and still me. So I decide the Lexington Plaza parking lot and an Uber is the best pickup spot to get Jay (aka Benji, aka James Benjamin Gelwick, aka Cappy...) to the airport so he could catch his original flight.

(The crazed Uber driver is a story for another day.)

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Current Meds & Survival Tools

This round, I’ve been alternating between Reglan and Ativan, and I’ll give credit where it’s due: it’s doing a decent job keeping me from tossing my cookies.

Hydration? Still losing that battle.
I went in for IV fluids at Beverly Hospital on Friday and will be going again Monday.

Note to self and others: Passion Tea and Ice does not work this round

➡️ Tried it. 

➡️ Failed it.

➡️ Next.

🤞One more round and—please universe—maybe I won’t have to talk about this part again.

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Cravings, Confessions, and Cautionary Tales

This round, food cravings have taken a vacation.

Nothing sounds good, and even less tastes right.

But just so we’re clear, I’m not listing specifics this time.

Why? Because the last time I did, things mysteriously appeared at my door.
(Looking at you, amazing organic ice pops. Still no card. Still no clue who sent them.)

So this time I’m flipping the script:

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Challenge Questions of the Week

1. What are your current cravings as we head into this new season?
2. What’s the one thing you’re reaching for over and over again—and would defend like a dragon if someone tried to take it from you?
3. And let’s be honest—have you ever accidentally eaten something that caused chaos? Bonus points for public drama.

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Thank You Corner: The Flowers Are Back and So Is My Sanity

So, for the past couple of weeks, my flowers went completely MIA.
I’m not saying I expected them... but I’m also not saying they didn’t become the highlight of my week.

So when someone recently asked me what flowers I’d gotten lately, I had to say it:

None.
That awkward silence says everything.

And just as I was about to go full dramatic monologue about my tragic bouquet drought—Margie shows up.
Winston Flowers. Gorgeous. Right on time.

Then Anne—another stunning Winston delivery and a package of goodies to help with the nausea.
Practical and beautiful.

Then came Grandma Di and Grandpa George (yes, Chip’s father and stepmother) with—you guessed it—more Winston flowers.
It was like a floral mic drop.

Grinning.
Fully grinning.

It’s silly, but they really do make the world a little prettier and my days more bearable. 😘 

Then there’s Charlotte, who brought exactly what I asked for: chicken soup loaded with veggies (no noodles—thank you), fresh bread, and what I can only describe as the best butter I’ve ever had. Then she threw in a lemon ice raspberry cake, which sealed the deal.

And finally—all the little things: the notes, cards, messages, check-ins. Thank you. Truly.

You may not think it’s a big deal, but every single thing adds up.

And I love you all for it.