Numbers and Valentines

As I stood in the pantry that's really not my pantry last night, looking at the stores of food I've amassed, I felt a moment of embarrassment. I'm one of those socially awkward people that thinks about the weirdest things. Like, it looks like I've lived in this temporary house a long time....it doesn't look like I'm planning jail break in 2 weeks. I did bring all our food from home that would expire before March.  Some random flours and sugars Dom's experimenting with. My food is wedged in between the home's appliances and pots and pans in the pantry.  I feel awkward about these things because for instance, my neighbor saw me carrying in our dear friend's sleeping bag for when she stayed the night and teased me about where are we fitting all the stuff we're moving in to just a temporary house. Call me self conscious.

I love Dominic more than ice cream.

Anyway, when I looked at the pantry full of food, and let the embarrassment pass, I started counting (again). I count every day. How many days until we go home is number one. But then I count how many days we've actually been in Sacramento. 83 days. That's how many days since Dominic has been in his home. 77 days since transplant. They told us in the beginning we'd become fixated on the numbers of his CBC (complete blood count), but now I'm fixated on days too.

Staring at the food, I counted some other numbers. We've been in this apartment for 57 days. That means we've had 171 meals here. Well, actually, 169 1/2. It's not dinner time yet and my friend took me out for dinner one night. (Thanks friend!) Then I started trying to figure out how many meals I've eaten out since the diagnosis. Dominic's number is easy. Zero. He has eaten at a restaurant 0 times since June 15. It was just easier once he began chemo to isolate and eat neutropenic all the time. (Neutropenic describes both a patient's immunity and a very restrictive diet.) He also has not had a cappuccino since June. I believe the first thing we will do on March 8 is go out for a cappuccino.

I have eaten at a restaurant twice since June. Both times with the same friend. It's only fitting I should eat out with one of my foodiest friends. I've also had another friend bring me a giant delicious burrito, and that was nice. My Mom has brought me Chinese and pizza on my quick trips home. Our over night guest with the sleeping bag left some pizza here for me, and it may as well have been from a restaurant. ohmygoshitwassogood.
I have had the odd cup of coffee from Starbucks. I collect points from our ground coffee and redeem them for free cups of coffee. Don't hate my penny pinching ways!
So mostly all our meals that were not in a hospital have been at home. Two of Dom's meals were made by another friend with items fresh from his garden. See, I can't stop counting.

And it doesn't seem like a big deal at all until I scroll through social media and see how reliant people are on fast food to get through the day, or eating out to mark an event, or eating out because it's nice to, or eating out because they can, and I realize it really is kind of a big deal, this thing we're doing.

And honestly, I'm not chomping at the bit to eat out. I do look forward to it. I look forward to the day Dom and I can just decide we've had a long day and maybe someone else can cook and clean up. Not that I mind cooking or the clean up. Not that we went out much before. We really didn't. But to know that we can. That will be fun.

But for now, he continues to experiment with soups. (That's his thing right now. Next week, it could be something else.) We're grateful he even has an appetite. And we're grateful for every morsel of food.  And we're grateful to be on this journey together. I can't think of anything more romantic than standing by my man through thick and thin. I can't think of anything more romantic than this fight he has fought so hard, in part for me. This just might be the best Valentine's Day ever.
All these numbers, and there is no way to count the ways I love and am loved.